


Requiem

by Salfur



Category: Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye (Tin Can Brothers)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Body Horror, Long-Distance Friendship, Mental Breakdown, Minor Character Death, Paranoia, Politics, Poverty, Religion, Sleep Deprivation, Taxidermy, Werewolves, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 30
Words: 40,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salfur/pseuds/Salfur
Summary: A series of oneshots focusing on the various deaths in the show (both literal and abstract).Warning: This story will contain spoilers for Wayward Guide.Tags will be added as new chapters are uploaded.
Relationships: Artemis Schue-Horyn & Paul Schue-Horyn, Crispin Lynch & Odie Doty, Desmond Brewer & Quinn Casidy, Donny Meadows & Prism (Wayward Guide), Garmin Patrick Saget & Wallis Gale, Madison Reynolds & Ryan Reynolds (Wayward Guide), Olivia Tompkins & Riley Kirkland
Comments: 58
Kudos: 51





	1. Requiem for the Paranoid

**Author's Note:**

> So this was an idea I had while thinking about all the deaths that have happened in the show thus far and the deaths that likely will happen later. I've never actually posted a multi-chapter fic before without having everything written out beforehand so here's to hoping I have the drive to finish this project. I think I made it a bit easier on myself by planning for each chapter to be its own contained story, though, so I have high hopes this'll get done. And if it doesn't, y'all have permission to yell at me about it in the comments.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starting off this story with the first character death.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Paranoia, Blood, Blood and Injury

Ryan Reynolds was a reasonable man. He only wanted what was best for his town, and if that meant being the lone voice fighting against Miner Mole’s corruption then so be it. Ryan wasn’t going to be intimidated by them. At least, that’s what he told himself at first. 

As he got more and more bold, Ryan couldn’t help but feel as if he were being constantly watched. At first, it was just a slight tickle in the back of his mind, a reasonable worry from openly protesting against such a large company. But that tickle only grew more persistent as the days passed. It wasn’t until he overheard some chatter about Miner Mole’s funds that that little tickle became a constant buzzing. A buzzing that would often keep him up at night.

Not only was what he overheard suspicious, but when he attempted to dig deeper, everyone would act as if they didn’t know what he was talking about. He had attempted to pry some information from Sybilus, as he’d been managing all the accounts for Miner Mole since they first incorporated the Connor Creek branch, but that was a dead-end as he was quite adamant about client confidentiality. Though Ryan did find it quite strange that Sybilus would attempt to pivot from any Miner Mole related talk, especially since he knew how much Sybilus loved talking about his job.

Sybilus wasn’t the only one who began acting strange whenever he brought up Miner Mole, either. Just about everyone he asked wouldn’t tell him anything about Miner Mole, and those who did only talked about how great they were. It was almost as if the people he’d known all his life were being turned into mindless corporate slaves.

It was also around this time that Ryan began feeling uneasy walking alone at night. Usually, he’d stay a bit late at the Dead Canary and head home soon after. But, sometimes when he was walking down Main Street alone at night, a chill would run down his spine from a sudden feeling of eyes boring into his back. But when he turned to face who or whatever was causing the feeling, there would be nothing.

Ryan stopped going out at night after about a dozen of those occurrences. And in those times when he did have to go out at night, he’d do his best to stick to the more populated areas. At the same time, Ryan began to look into possible news sources he could take this newfound conspiracy to. He’d been known to listen to just about all the stories from the American Podcasting Network, and he knew exactly who he needed to take this story to. 

It began with a single email, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was sent with Connor Creek’s spotty internet so he sent it again to be safe. Then he waited for a response. A few minutes passed. Then hours. Then days. 

Ryan reasoned the lack of response was from how busy Ms. Schue-Horyn must have been. Still, sending another email couldn’t hurt, could it?

As he continued to wait for a response, Ryan began to notice more and more oddities in the townsfolk’s demeanor. He knew there would be a buzz around town with the coming election, but this was different. It was almost as if the entire town was on edge, and Ryan was at the very center of it.

In his growing paranoia, he began to send more emails. Perhaps Artemis just never received the previous ones. And, just to be safe, he’d email her brother, Paul, too. In one weekend, Ryan had managed to send dozens of emails to the Schue-Horyns, and yet he hadn’t received a single response. 

With the election coming up in less than a week, Ryan knew he had to take drastic measures. So, he got into his car and drove all the way over to Los Angeles, home of the APN offices. They could ignore his emails all they want, but they couldn’t possibly ignore him in person.

Getting into the APN offices didn’t take much work, it was finding the Schue-Horyns that was proving to be… tricky. He had found Artemis’s cubicle quite quickly, but it seemed as if the woman herself was nowhere to be found. Ryan was about to start looking around the office for her when someone peeked inside.

“Hi, so, I don’t mean to be rude, but, uh, who are you and what are you doing in my sister’s cubicle?”

“Sister?” Ryan’s eyes widened. “You must be Paul Schue-Horyn! I’m Ryan, Ryan Reynolds and boy-howdy do I have a story that would be perfect for your podcast!”

Paul looked intrigued, “A story, huh? Alright, I’ve got some time, lay it on me.”

Ryan told Paul about what he knew of Miner Mole’s funds, how the townsfolk were beginning to act strange whenever Miner Mole was mentioned, the potential blackmailing, everything. The whole time, Paul listened, enraptured. Paul was about to say something when suddenly turned his head.

“Hold on just a moment.”

Paul stepsided out of the cubicle and began to talk with someone. Ryan began to spin in the chair as he waited for Paul to finish talking with the woman. The woman whose voice he suddenly recognized. He stopped spinning just as Artemis came into view.

“Ms. Schue-Horyn! Boy, it really is such a pleasure. I hope you pardon my French but I think I’m really about to blow your gosh darn mind. I’m Ryan, Ryan Reynolds.”

Artemis ignored his outstretched hand and turned to her brother instead. She pulled him away for a quick sidebar before returning a moment later.

“Alright, Mr. Reynolds, let’s talk.”

Ryan wasn’t sure he’d ever felt as excited before as he did while following the twins into an empty meeting room. Artemis motioned for him to take a seat across from them, which he eagerly did. He had a feeling the meeting would be great. But, of course, feelings weren’t always the most reliable when it came to business. 

Ryan stomped out of the building and into his car, slamming the door shut behind him. What a load of hooey, he thought before starting his long, uneventful journey back to Connor Creek. It wasn’t until he actually got back to town that he found out his pitch worked. Apparently APN had called during his drive back and they would be sending the Schue-Horyns to cover his story the next day. Ryan felt a wave of relief and elation wash over him. This was it and man, did he have a lot of work to do.

He had found out from some of the other townsfolk that they wouldn’t be making it to town until the next evening so Ryan spent the good portion of the next day preparing everything he needed for the election. This mainly involved printing out more campaign fliers and paying the postage to mail them all out. Eventually, it became night and Ryan decided that it was the perfect time to head over to the Dead Canary and greet the Schue-Horyns.

While the excitement of Paul and Artemis coming to town worked well to distract him from the buzzing in the back of his head, it seemed to have come back full-force as he walked down Main Street alone. He felt a chill run up his spine as he walked, but ignored it, figuring it was just his imagination. Still, he knew he’d feel much better once he got inside the bar.

Suddenly, the sound of a branch snapping behind him drew his attention. Ryan whipped his head around but was greeted with nothing but the empty street.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Ryan called, though he received no response.

Slowly, he turned back around and continued his walk, picking up his pace a bit. Another branch snapping stopped him in his tracks.

“Who’s there?!” He shouted, quickly turning, despite being just a few yards away from the Dead Canary.

Again, there was nothing but shadows. Suddenly, Ryan felt a sharp pain on his back as something slashed deep into his side. Blood dripped down his chin as he coughed. He wanted to yell for help, but he couldn’t muster the strength. Instead, he fell over onto the ground with a heavy thud.

As his life slowly slipped from him, Ryan couldn’t help but feel a morbid sense of vindication. Miner Mole _was_ out to get him, and they succeeded.


	2. Requiem for a Mystic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second character death in the show, such a tragic loss.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Werewolves, Blood, Blood and Injury

As the town mystic, Prism was used to people coming to her with trivial matters. It didn’t bother her, for the most part. She knew what she was getting herself into when she started this whole mystic business.

Now, if you were to ask Prism if she really believed in magic and fortune telling, she’d tell you wholeheartedly that she did. That was enough to convince the majority of townsfolk, but there were few who knew the truth. They knew that her whole shtick was just a scam.

No, Prism didn’t _really_ believe in anything she did. But she knew what to say to get people to think she did. Those that came to her, they would come believing their problems could only be solved by mystical means. Prism knew better. She knew that even the most complex of problems had simple solutions. And she wasn’t afraid of capitalizing upon that oversight that so many seemed to have.

Did she ever feel bad about tricking all those people? Not really. Well, maybe she felt a little bad for Donny. But she wasn’t about to turn him away or anything, seeing as he was one of her most dedicated customers. Still, Prism was only human and even she had her limits when it came to the boy.

“I _promise_ you, Donny, the cards never lie.”

“You keep saying that, but what do the cards even mean? Like,” Donny grabbed one of the cards on the table and held it up, “this card is _literally_ calling me a fool! Do I look like a fool to you?!”

“That card is calling you a free spirit,” Prism said, taking the card back. “It also represents beginnings; the start of something new. Or, perhaps _someone_ new coming into your life?”

Donny sighed, slumping in the chair. “I don’t know… Maybe I’m just destined to be alone forever.”

“Donny… Listen, you’re a great kid. There’s someone out there for you, you just have to find them. The cards can only say so much, ultimately it’s up to you to be the change you want in your life.”

“You know what? You’re right! There _is_ someone out there, I just have to change everything about myself to find them!” 

“Oh, that’s not-”

Donny stood from the table feeling renewed. “Thanks Prism! I’ll let you know how it goes in a few days!”

He was out the door before Prism had a chance to explain herself or tell him how bad an idea it was to literally change everything about himself. But knowing it was fruitless to chase after him, she stayed put and began to clean up from his appointment. At that moment, Paul walked through the doorway.

“Prism! Are you busy?”

“Paul! Not at all. Please, have a seat.” She smiled and gestured to the empty seat across from her, getting back into character. “I presume you’re here for a reading?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Paul asked as he took a seat.

Prism laughed, “I know many things, Paul. Now, give me just a moment to procure my tarot deck.”

“Can’t you just use those?” He pointed to the tarot deck sitting on the table.

“Oh, no. These require a deep cleansing. Fortunately, I have another deck right here.” Prism placed the used cards aside and pulled out her spare deck, placing it into the glass tray beside her. “Now, please, tell me: what do you seek to learn?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… My sister’s being such a bitch.”

Great, just what Prism needed, another person coming to complain to her. Oh well, at least she’d be able to make some money from him. She made a grand gesture to the glorified rock lamp beside her, as if seeking wisdom from it before summarizing Paul’s complaint to him.

Paul nodded in awe. He then continued to voice his complaint and as he did, Prism quickly thought up some load of horse-shit about the sun, Earth, and the moon to mask as a sort of profound wisdom. She’d use it to draw him in before promptly echoing back his own words.

As Paul began to question her bullshit, she picked up the cards she had set aside. “What answers do you seek? The cards, they never lie.”

Paul shut his eyes tight, as if concentrating on his question. Prism rolled with it and drew the first card: Death. Paul visibly grimaced.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Prism reassured. “‘Death’ can also mean ‘rebirth.’”

He looked relieved so Prism continued the reading, drawing another card: Death. Prism blinked as she looked at the card.

“That’s weird. There should only be one in each deck.”

This was fine. Perhaps she had simply shuffled an extra card into the deck. That wasn’t so strange. Prism drew another card: Death. Then another. And another. Card after card, Death after Death. With each card, she became more and more frantic until the whole deck was gone and all that was left was the face of death staring back at them. Or perhaps the wolf of death in this instance.

Prism stared down at the cards as a feeling of dread washed over her. She looked up as a shadow loomed over the two from the entrance, and only exit, of her shop. She was frozen in place as the beast raised its large paws, bringing them down upon Paul. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud, blood splattering over the carpet. Paul groaned as he attempted to crawl away from the beast.

Prism wasn’t sure what came over her, but before she knew it, she was out of her chair, throwing herself in the way of the large beast’s next attack. The claws dug deep into her, throwing her back into the table. Prism’s hands wrapped around a small bottle of turmeric and with what strength she could muster, she chucked the bottle straight at the beast as it reared up for another attack. It roared as the bottle shattered on impact, splashing the liquid straight into its eyes.

To her surprise, rather than retaliate, the beast bounded out of the store, leaving the two bloodied and beaten. At that moment, Prism collapsed onto the ground. The blood pouring out of their collective wounds gathered in a deep, red puddle. She felt her eyes slowly close as the last of her strength drained from her body.

Death by werewolf, huh? Prism certainly didn’t see that one coming.


	3. Requiem for Sobriety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not a main character death this time. Instead, this chapter focuses on how Henry became the town drunk. I know nothing about medical practices, but with a little help from Google, I sure did try my damn best. Takes place before the show.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Blood, Blood and Injury, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Minor Character Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written prior to Wayward Guide episode 6 so me saying that Dr. Henry finished his degree has since been disproven, but this chapter was already pretty headcanony/speculative so it's not a super big deal.

Henry wasn’t always the town drunk. He used to be a respectable man. He was a doctor for goodness sake! But perhaps he shouldn’t have been. Sure, he could stitch up a wound better than anyone else in Connor Creek but that wasn’t saying much as he was also the only person qualified to do so.

Henry had never liked blood. Most people didn’t, to be fair. But blood always made him feel… uneasy. It wasn’t enough to get in the way of his work, but perhaps it would have been wiser to follow another career path. Then again, Henry never considered himself a wise man.

His father had been a doctor and so it made sense for him to become one as well. Of course, that wasn’t the _only_ reason he had for going into the medical field. He had also genuinely wanted to help people, and what better way to do so than by literally saving lives?

Finding a job after graduating was a lot harder than he anticipated. At first, he had attempted to find some work in the Los Angeles area, but the city had never been for him. It didn’t take long before Henry found himself back in his hometown of Connor Creek. He knew his father was planning on retiring soon so the Connor Creek Hospital was the perfect place to procure a job. Well, calling it a ‘hospital’ was being generous. Really, it was more of a small office with the bare minimum needed for potentially saving a person’s life. But accidents were few and far between in Connor Creek, so that never proved to be much of an issue before.

As it turned out, as soon as all the paperwork was in place for Henry to work at the hospital, his father had decided that was the perfect time to retire. Henry felt as if he had been thrown into the open ocean and told to swim for shore. Never in his life had he been more grateful for how peaceful Connor Creek was than that day. Still, peaceful or not, people would always get hurt.

It was about a year after he became Connor Creek’s sole doctor when it happened. Someone had gotten into some sort of accident. It was hunting related, if he recalled correctly. Sheriff Reynolds had called in ahead of time, letting him know there was a medical emergency. 

When Madison and Crispin finally arrived with the patient, the metallic scent of blood hit him long before he even saw the body and when he did… well, the sight was horrifying to say the least. It was certainly not anything Henry would want to remember any time soon. Henry pushed down all his discomfort as deep as he could and he donned his medical mask. He knew he had to work quickly if he had any chance at saving this person’s life. Even before Crispin and Sheriff Reynolds left, he began working on cleaning and numbing the wounds, along with slowing the bleeding. Any wound that wasn’t too large or bleeding too profusely, he simply held together with some adhesive strips. He deemed those not as urgent and he could always go back and suture those later if need be. 

Overall, it was a lengthy process but eventually he managed to get the bleeding under control enough where he could begin suturing the remaining wounds. Thankfully, there weren’t too many but he still had to work quickly as the patient had already lost a lot of blood.

Just keep working and don’t think about the blood staining your gloves, he thought. Henry always found the suturing process strangely calming. The back and forth of the needle became his mantra; it was something he could focus on without becoming overwhelmed by the blood. 

Before he knew it, all the major wounds were closed and all Henry could do now was wait and hope the patient would awake. He pressed his fingers to the patient’s neck feeling for a pulse. Henry furrowed his brows. No, that can’t be right, he thought as he dug into his medical bag. He pulled out the stethoscope and pressed the cold metal of the instrument onto the patient’s chest.

Was his stethoscope broken? No, of course it wasn’t. Henry had done everything right, hadn’t he? So then where… where was their heartbeat?

Out of the corner of his eye, Henry noticed that a red pool had formed at the foot of the bed. No. No, no, no. How had he missed this? Henry ripped the stethoscope from his ears and discarded it to the floor. He rolled the patient over, finding that one of their wounds had somehow reopened while he was suturing their other wounds.

The patient must have bled out and he didn’t notice. How? How hadn’t he noticed?

Henry fell back into his chair, burying his face in his hands.

No. No, there was still time. He could still save them. Sure, he didn’t know when they died exactly but there was still a chance. He knew there was. Henry placed his hands over the center of the patient’s chest. Locking his arms, he began to push hard and fast. After a bit, he delivered two rescue breaths before continuing the compressions.

Had the patient not been covered in wounds, Henry would have pulled out the AED but using it now would only result in injury to the patient. He could only hope that CPR would be enough.

Up, down, up, down, up, down. The pattern continued over and over for several minutes, but there was no change in the patient. Henry refused to give up, however. He continued on until he knew there was no coming back for them, but he kept going for a few minutes more anyways. Eventually, he collapsed to the ground, exhausted arms falling to his side.

Death was a part of his job. Henry knew this. He knew he’d have to experience it eventually. But had he just paid more attention then maybe, just maybe his patient would have survived. Honestly, who was he to call himself a doctor if he couldn’t see his own patient bleeding out before him? 

Henry didn’t know how long he sat there for, staring down at the floor. But, eventually, he managed to muster the strength to stand up. He ripped off his bloodied latex gloves and threw them in trash before stepping out.

Outside, Madison and Crispin turned to him as he exited, seemingly waiting for him.

“Dr. Edwards! How’d it go in there? Good I hope?”

Henry felt a lump form in his throat. He opened his mouth to answer Madison, but couldn’t seem to form any words. Instead he shook his head.

Madison’s smile fell from her face. “Oh, I see… Well, I’m sure you did all you could to-”

“Sheriff Reynolds, I’m going to need you to call Rita.” Henry didn’t wait for a response as he began to walk away.

“Wha- Dr. Edwards, where are you going?”

He stopped walking, but didn’t bother to turn around as he answered, “I need a drink.”

Henry was never a big drinker, and he wished he could say that was the last time he drowned his grief with alcohol. But it wasn’t. Despite waking up the next morning with the worst hangover he’d ever experienced, Henry found himself drinking again that night. And the night after that, and the night after that.

The drinking began as a way to keep himself from thinking about his mistakes. But soon, it became more than that. Soon, the nightly drinking began to include an afternoon beer, then a morning whiskey. It didn’t take long before Henry was drinking at all hours of the day. 

He did his best to keep his newfound drinking habits from interfering with his work, but given how few and far between serious accidents were, he never really had to worry about that. At least, he didn’t until those two podcasters came to town. Those recent deaths only worked to bring back more memories of his mistakes and Henry wasn’t about to risk further drowning in his guilt, not when he could drown in alcohol instead.


	4. Requiem for the Skeptical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis learns that Paul is right sometimes. This chapter follows the show very closely but has a focus on Artemis's internal thoughts and feels about her brother, the town, and the whole werewolf thing.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Werewolves, Blood, Blood and Injury

Artemis loved her brother, she really did. It’s just sometimes his childish nature really got on her nerves. She knew he never meant any harm by it, but whenever Paul got his mind set on something, he really went to the extremes. Artemis could only wish he could have been like that for work.

That wasn’t to say that Paul was a burden at work. On the contrary, two heads were better than one, especially when it came to investigative journalism. Paul was always better at connecting with people on a personal level than she was. It was something Artemis had always considered unprofessional, but she could appreciate a little unprofessionalism if it got the right results.

Werewolves, however, was something Artemis wasn’t going to even entertain. Perhaps she would have if their primary source hadn’t died the day they arrived at Connor Creek, but that wasn’t how things happened. And now Artemis had to figure out how to continue their investigation with no starting point.

The werewolf obsession had all started when they visited the town historian, Aubrey Dockweiler. The man was… eccentric and all too eager to talk to them about the history of Connor Creek. The sheer amount of books that man had managed to gather for them in such a short amount of time was overwhelming. At least, it would have been had Paul not found something hidden within the books.

Finding a book titled  _ The Secrets of Connor Creek _ was a little on the nose, and Artemis wasn’t about to trust that it was a mere coincidence. While she was skeptical about the contents, she was also extremely curious to see what Aubrey’s great grandfather had written about. Paul opened the book to where the worn bookmark was left: a chapter about the werewolves of Connor Creek.

Artemis’s curiosity was instantly piqued. While she didn’t believe werewolves actually existed, she was curious about what Daedalus Dockweiler had written about it. Though, it appeared that her curiosity was not fated to be quenched that day, as the pages of the book had been long since torn out.

It was at that moment that Aubrey returned, arms full of rolled maps. He began to go on about how the werewolves were all a bunch of ‘hooey’ and how normal Connor Creek was or wasn’t before promptly asking for them to leave. Artemis did suppose that it was getting late, but she couldn’t help but feel like there was something Aubrey was hiding. Perhaps something he didn’t want them finding in his great grandfather’s book. Or perhaps he was simply just a crazy old kook.

While Artemis was more than happy to say that the idea of werewolves in Connor Creek was one of the dumbest things she’d ever heard, Paul had other ideas about it. She recognized that spark in her brother’s eyes instantly. Why? Why did it have to be werewolves of all things that he got attached to? 

This wasn’t even the first time Paul had gotten obsessed with some supernatural monster. If she recalled correctly, just a few years ago Paul had been adamantly convinced that one of their co-workers was a vampire and that they were out to get his blood. It took her a whole month to get him out of that mentality. Artemis wished she had the time to snap some sense into her brother but given how they only had a week, there just wasn’t time. No, you know what? This was fine. As long as it didn’t interfere with their investigation, she would let him keep believing that werewolves were real. She had other things to worry about, after all.

As it turned out, letting Paul keep believing in werewolves was one of the worst decisions Artemis had made. She was so close to being proud of him for gathering some juicy information from Miner Mole’s accountant when it turned out that all Paul did was dick around. And now that Sybilus knew about how unprofessional her brother was, there was no way he’d be up for a follow-up interview with her.

It was rare that Artemis and Paul got into an argument, little squabbles and disagreements were to be expected, but this was definitely one of their bigger fights. Artemis knew she was being hard on Paul, but she had good reason to be. They only had so much time to gather as much information as they could for their investigation, and they were starting from complete scratch. There just wasn’t time to be messing around. So, pushing down her annoyance, Artemis headed back to the Dead Canary to get to work.

It was two hours later when Artemis felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something had happened to Paul. As soon as she realized that, she got a voicemail from none other than Dr. Henry Edwards, informing her that her brother had gotten into an ‘accident.’

Dropping what she was doing, Artemis rushed over to Dr. Henry’s office as fast as she could. Well, she would have if she knew where his office was. As she didn’t know the town that well, she had to ask Desmond for directions. He seemed startled when Artemis ran up to the bar, frazzled, but he was more than happy to- well, he gave her directions without a second thought or question. It was something that she was growing to appreciate about the man.

Artemis barged into Dr. Henry’s office without a second thought. She instantly regretted doing so. Her eyes locked on to Paul’s still body. His favorite hoodie was torn to shreds and there was blood everywhere. Dr. Henry was seated beside Paul, cleaning his wounds. He had stopped as soon as Artemis barged in however.

“Ah, Artemis I presume? This… isn’t the best time to be in here. Perhaps you should… wait outside?”

Artemis simply nodded her head wordlessly and stepped out of the room, letting the doctor work. She slumped down on the floor of the hall as there weren’t any chairs nearby. Artemis couldn’t help but think about how the last time they’d seen each other they were fighting. What if the last thing Paul remembered of her was their fight? No, no. She couldn’t think like that. Paul was in good- professional hands… even if those hands did belong to the town drunk.

Artemis wasn’t sure how long she sat in that hallway. It couldn’t have been for longer than an hour though when Dr. Henry stepped out of the room. She looked up at the doctor, dreading what he had to say.

“Ms. Schue-Horyn, your brother is in stable condition for now. There’s not much else I… can do at this time. I’ll be keep… keeping him here overnight to monitor his condition. I suggest… you head back to the Dead Canary and… get some rest. I will call if there are any changes in his condition.”

Artemis released a breath of relief, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She stood up and thanked Dr. Henry before heading back to the Dead Canary. Despite knowing that Paul was alive and recovering, getting some rest was proving to be difficult. Still she managed, somehow. Well, she did until she was awoken by a call from Dr. Henry.

As it turned out, Paul was doing much better and the doctor would be having him moved back to the Dead Canary soon. He said it was because there was no need to watch over him for any longer, but Artemis was pretty sure Dr. Henry just wanted his office empty again. She had offered to help, but the doctor assured her that he and Crispin had it handled.

True to his word, it didn’t take long for Dr. Henry and Crispin to get Paul back in his bed. Asleep, he looked so peaceful, almost as if the accident never happened. At least, it would have if he weren’t shirtless and wounded. Artemis forced herself to look away, instead focusing on figuring out what caused her brother’s accident in the first place.

She didn’t have to wait long for a proper answer as Paul woke up a few moments later. Any remaining anxiety she had washed away as she saw her brother awake. Though that sense of relief was quickly replaced with a prick of annoyance as he insisted that he was attacked by a werewolf. Artemis pushed it down. She knew it would be unfair of her to scold him about it when he was still injured. Besides, she had a town council meeting to get to.

Paul was asleep once more when she finally got back from town hall. Artemis figured he needed his rest so she didn’t bother him as she reviewed the tape from the meeting. Her brother was still fast asleep when she finished. Artemis considered going downstairs but before she could make up her mind Paul suddenly sat up with a start, clearly having just woken up from some sort of nightmare. Whatever had happened last night must have really rattled him if he was acting like this.

Artemis figured the least she could do was get him something to eat, and herself something to drink. A scotch sounded nice right about now. Unfortunately for her, she wasn’t getting either anytime soon as Silas had decided to interrupt her evening by showing up in the Dead Canary. God, she really hated him.

Figuring she was about to commit murder herself if she had to be around him for another second, Artemis grabbed her coat and stepped outside for some air. It was a quiet night, a little chilly but nothing she couldn’t handle. While she initially went outside to clear her head, it soon became something more when she noticed an abnormally large footprint on the street.

Artemis looked around, but there wasn’t anyone nearby who could have possibly made the print. Her curiosity thoroughly piqued, she followed the set of prints into the woods that surrounded Connor Creek. The trek through the woods was a challenge with her heeled-boots but, coming across a lone cabin, she had a feeling it would be worth it. Though she was really wishing she had worn better shoes when she was forced to climb over a boulder. A chill ran down her spine, causing her to pause her ascent as a deep growl emanated from the direction of the cabin. Pushing down her fear, Artemis continued onwards. Making it to the building, she pressed herself flat against the wall of the cabin to keep herself hidden. Slowly, she peeked around the corner.

Two large, furry shadows danced on the wall. The silhouettes were unmistakable even before they began to growl and speak. Artemis pressed herself back around the corner, eyes wide.

Paul was right…


	5. Requiem for a Vegan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul's not a vegan anymore. That's definitely what this chapter focuses on. Yep.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Werewolves

It had started with an article about how the meat and dairy industry was crippling the environment, not to mention all the animal cruelty. Paul couldn’t remember which article had started it all exactly, but there were enough on the internet that it didn’t exactly matter which one was the true catalyst for his own veganism.

It was hard at first, changing his diet so drastically, but he knew it’d be worth it. He was helping the environment, afterall. And god knows humanity needed to do all they could to help the environment. 

Though, if Paul was being honest, wasn’t sure he would have made it through those first few transitional months had it not been for Artemis’s support. While she herself wasn’t going vegan any time soon, he appreciated how willing she was to accommodate his new diet. Plus, she was always there to listen to him complain about how he couldn’t eat any more steaks or burgers or cheese, god did Paul miss pizza.

Eventually, though, he got used to his new diet and found himself thinking less and less of the foods he had to give up or replace. It became easier and easier to stick with his diet and living in the Los Angeles area certainly made it easy for him.

Paul had been successfully living a vegan lifestyle for a few years and he certainly wasn’t expecting that to change any time soon. Then again, he hadn’t been expecting to be attacked by a werewolf either.

His memory of the attack itself was blurry. He knew he was with Prism when it happened but he couldn’t quite recall anything that happened after he entered her shop. Nothing except a vague memory of some tarot cards and a large, furry figure. A figure that Paul knew in his core was a werewolf.

When Paul had awoken the next morning back in his bed at the Dead Canary, he instantly knew something was wrong. Not accounting for his killer headache, he was quite certain his wounds were supposed to be much worse than what he could see. And Dr. Henry’s comment about his wounds healing remarkably fast only worked to solidify a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

If Paul had survived the werewolf attack, then there was a possibility he had become infected. That’s how it worked in movies, so he didn’t see why that wasn’t how it worked with real werewolves either. Still, there was a part of him that was hoping that wasn’t the case. Perhaps he was simply lucky and the wounds weren’t actually that bad in the first place. Afterall, what did that drunk doctor really know anyways, right?

Paul wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but he found himself waking up again alone. He figured Artemis was out working so he didn’t find that too odd. What was strange, however, was his shoulder. Earlier, he had felt a constant stinging from the wound but now it simply felt sore. Paul gave it an experimental press and furrowed his brows when he found that it didn’t hurt. He gave it a few more taps to confirm, though.

He likely would have found it more concerning if he wasn’t suddenly overcome with a deep hunger. God, when was the last time he ate? It must have been the previous night and it was, what, afternoon now? Paul felt like he could eat a horse at that point. Metaphorically, of course. Or was it? No, no, that’d be insane. There’s no way Paul would ever actually eat a horse… right? 

Paul decided to push the thought aside as he got out of bed. Horse or not, he really needed to eat  _ something _ . So, throwing on a hoodie, he headed downstairs. Paul narrowed his eyes as he walked into the bar. Was it always so bright? He didn’t have time to ponder further as Desmond, who was struggling to open a jar of olives, began to speak to him.

“Paul, you look fit as a fiddle. Want to help me open this?”

Paul attempted to respond but found that he couldn’t quite form the words. When was the last time he drank anything?

Suddenly Quinn spoke up from behind the bar, “Paul, just in time to try my quiche. Or would you prefer… raw steak!”

Dread filled Paul as everything began to go crazy around him. He couldn’t seem to move as the world around him devolved into chaos. Eventually, he couldn’t take it any longer and he had to cover his face as his senses became overwhelmed. When he uncovered his eyes, he was no longer in the Dead Canary.

Paul had somehow gotten outside and across from him stood… himself? No, that couldn’t be right. Could it? He took a step closer, examining the man before him when, suddenly, he opened his eyes. Blood red pupils stared into Paul’s brown as ‘he’ bore his fangs at him. Instinctively, Paul reared back with a scream.

His eyes flew open and Paul sat up in bed, drenched with sweat. His eyes darted around the room. Had that all been a dream? Paul barely registered his sister urging him to relax from beside him. Instead, he leaned back against the headboard after telling Artemis how he was feeling. She mentioned making some sort of mistake but she didn’t elaborate. Paul then watched as his sister went downstairs to procure some food for him, but he had a feeling that whatever she ended up ordering wasn’t going to sate his appetite.

The last portion of his dream kept replaying in his head. It had to have been some sort of sign. He almost didn’t want to say it aloud, knowing that if he did, then it would be real. But, at the same time, Paul knew that there was no denying the facts.

“I think I’m a werewolf now.”

Paul felt exhausted, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep any time soon. He was too rattled from his dream and hungry. Artemis had texted him earlier that she was getting him some fries, but that was about half an hour ago. God, Paul was starving. He knew the fries weren’t going to be enough, but at that point he was willing to eat anything if it could sate his hunger even a little.

He picked up his phone and began to text Artemis, begging for his fries. He didn’t receive a response, which Paul found a little strange, but he figured that Quinn was taking his time to make some sort of gourmet meal for him. Paul could wait a little longer for his food he supposed. At least, that’s what he thought before he was jarred out of his thoughts by the sound of gunshots.

Paul was instantly out of bed and scrambling to get his hoodie on before rushing downstairs. By the time he got downstairs, Artemis was being brought in by Madison and a very inebriated Riley.

“Is everything okay? I heard gunshots,” Paul asked.

“Paul, what are you doing out of bed? You’re supposed to be resting,” Artemis said, ignoring his question.

“I’m fine, but what happened? Artemis, are you okay?”

Artemis took a deep breath before looking Paul in the eye. “You were right, Paul.”

Paul couldn’t help but worry that what had happened was somehow his fault. Logically, he knew that he couldn’t have known that Artemis had wandered into the woods in search of clues. But it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty. At least no one got hurt, at least not badly. Artemis was a bit frustrated that she had dropped the recorder, losing some tape in the process, though. Knowing his sister, Paul knew she was taking that a lot harder than the skinned knee she had received.

Paul had somehow managed to convince Artemis to get some rest after Madison and Riley left for the night. Though he himself wasn’t feeling tired. He supposed that was a good thing as he had to get up early anyways to make it to the election on time. Paul thought it was insane how early Connor Creek was starting, but at least he was already awake. And, given how Artemis was currently fast asleep, it was up to him to get some juicy soundbites. After some food, of course.

After the election, Paul had returned straight back to the Dead Canary. While the truffle fries had sated his hunger long enough for him to make it through the election, Paul couldn’t help but still feel famished when he got back. He felt like he should have been concerned by his sudden appetite for raw meat, but he simply figured that was just something he’d have to get used to now that he was a werewolf.

Quinn had given him a strange look when he ordered some steak and eggs, hold the eggs, extra, extra rare. Granted, it was certainly a strange request, but Paul was too hungry to care. Though, he did feel grateful that Quinn hadn’t questioned his sudden change in diet given how he must have known he was vegan by now. When Paul finally got his food, he couldn’t help feel a prick of annoyance. On a normal occasion he would have thought the meal looked delicious, but instead it just made his stomach turn. Paul wasn’t proud of himself when he pulled the ‘the customer is always right’ card on Quinn, but he just really needed to get his appetite settled.

Artemis had come downstairs at that point and Paul had attempted to talk about the werewolves with her, but she simply brushed the topic aside. He knew there was no way she could deny they weren’t real so he didn’t take it too harshly. Paul hadn’t had the time to confide in Artemis his newfound secret and when she offered to take his food, he became worried, though he did his best to not let it show.

Deep down, he knew that Artemis wouldn’t think of him any differently. But he still couldn’t help but be worried about the implications being a werewolf really meant. Paul was quickly pulled out of his thoughts, however, as Desmond spoke to them. Paul was quick to mention the werewolves, hoping to gauge his sister’s reaction. Expectantly, she brushed off the comment, instead insisting that she simply found herself in a ‘bad situation.’ Though he could see in her eyes that she was telling him that they’d talk about it later.

Paul considered that a win and, with a smug grin, walked away to make sure Quinn got his order right. If worse came to worse, he figured he could just snag a raw steak and book it out of there. It was strange, but Paul was really beginning to accept the fact that he was a werewolf now. He didn’t exactly feel much different, other than the sudden urge to consume raw meat, which was certainly… concerning. He tried not to think about it too much though, instead focusing more on the fact that he was eating meat again. Honestly, there were probably worse ways to stop being vegan. Which isn’t to say he preferred it this way, but it really could have been a lot worse.


	6. Requiem for a Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Third character death of the show. RIP you funky man.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Blood, Blood and Injury, Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written prior to Wayward Guide Podcast episode 6 so the location of this death does not match what is canon in the show.

It was looking to be a busy day for the only postal worker in Connor Creek. Odie had headed down to Riley’s Gun Depot to deliver the Mayor’s response letter for the twenty one gun salute. He knew that she’d certainly be disappointed to hear her request was denied, but nothing Odie could do about it, he was just a messenger after all. On the way, he figured he could deliver a package and hand out some of Ryan’s campaign flyers. The boy might have been dead, but he paid for postage, the least Odie could do was honor that.

After delivering Riley’s mail he then jumped over to Crispin; he was always hanging around Main Street around that time. Even when Odie didn’t have anything to deliver to the man, he made time in his busy schedule to greet him at the very least.

Odie was sad to say that would have to part with those podcasters at that point. With all the extra deliveries, he just couldn’t afford wasting time. The only reason he went along with the interview in the first place was to be polite, plus they agreed to let him keep working during it which was awfully nice of them.

He then had to sprint over to Barney’s on the edge of town in order to get the rest of the flyers out by the end of the day. Though most would find his job demanding, Odie quite enjoyed the exercise it provided and, truth-be-told, he often found it a shame Barney didn’t receive more letters. Sure, he lived quite out of the way, but Odie found the run over to be quite refreshing. 

On the way to Barney’s he made sure that he delivered that letter Agnes had written to Aubrey about needing to count the river rocks. He was also expecting Aubrey to have some sort of response to that letter he received a few days ago from Jeremiah about attending church. Or perhaps not. It was always a coin flip when it came to responses to Jeremiah. Usually people wouldn’t bother to answer, but every now and then someone- usually Dr. Henry- would tell him off in a response letter. Odie quite enjoyed reading those, even if Dr. Henry’s handwriting was atrocious and most of the sentences didn’t make any sense since he tended to write those letters when he was deeply inebriated.

After dropping off Ryan’s campaign flyer at Barney’s he would have to double back and start to make his way over to the Second Bank of Connor Creek. It was Wednesday, so Sybilus was no doubt expecting that letter from Silas Torsen finalizing the times for their meeting the next day. Silas never really expected mail unless he was ordering something from Amazon. But since Connor Creek didn’t actually get Amazon packages, most of Odie’s interactions with the man was just getting yelled at for not doing his job.

Odie almost punched him the last time that stuck up city-slicker had talked about his job. Who did he think he was to call ol’ Odie Doty a bad postman? But, because Odie was a _professional_ , he held back… barely. Thankfully, he had only had to deliver a handful of mail to that man in the year Silas had been living in Connor Creek. Odie was quite sure that he would have actually snapped had he been forced to interact with Silas any more frequently.

The rest of the day was dedicated to delivering the remainder of Ryan’s flyers; that and whatever last minute deliveries were needed to be made. He’d stopped by the Dead Canary last, like he usually did, to grab dinner before heading back home. Odie tended to fall asleep early and awake around the asscrack of dawn. He didn’t technically have to wake up that early, not on Thursdays anyways, but it was a habit his body had gotten into over the years. He didn’t mind the early hours, though, as it meant he had more time to exercise. Plus, waking up early enough to watch the sunrise was an experience Odie would never get tired of.

Thursday wasn’t anything too eventful. It was, for all intents and purposes, quite normal. Well, at least until the night came. Odie was about to head to bed when he overheard some commotion outside the post office. He peeked out the window and saw Artemis tearing through Main Street towards Dr. Henry’s office. It wasn’t until the next morning that he learned why. Paul, Artemis’s boyfriend? Brother? Odie wasn’t quite sure what their relationship was, but Paul had gotten into some kind of accident at Prism’s. 

Odie hoped that Paul fellow was alright. He was a nice guy and Odie was really rooting for him to get better. He had considered asking Artemis about him when he saw her at the town council meeting, but as it turned out, there was more that he had to focus on. 

Odie had initially anticipated news on Truman becoming the newest member of the council, given how Ryan was dead. While he was more partial towards the Reynolds campaign, any news was good news for him, as news often came mail. And more mail meant more running, and Odie liked running. And while Connor Creek’s newspaper only printed monthly, Odie was sure there would be a new issue he’d be delivering to everyone soon enough.

However, it looked like the newspaper would have to wait. Madison running in her brother’s stead was certainly unexpected, but Odie wasn’t about to complain. This election was really becoming the talk of the town and Odie was absolutely enjoying the extra work that came with it. He was a little disappointed at the lack of mail-in ballots, but he could appreciate the townsfolk’s enthusiasm. Personally, he had his mail-in ballot filled out as soon as he delivered them. No way was he going to let any potential extra weight to his load go to waste.

As the election was early the next morning, Odie was anticipating a lot of newspapers to be printed as soon as the sun rose. He could barely contain his excitement as he went to bed that night. Honestly, he still wasn’t sure how he managed to get a full eight hours of sleep.

Odie awoke just before the rising sun that morning, as per usual. He got dressed for the day and performed his morning stretches before heading out for an early jog. He was going to need to be limber for all the newspapers he’d be delivering soon enough. At least, that’s what he thought before Odie had passed by town hall. From the sounds of it, it was going to be a while until the Caucuses were over. That was fine with Odie, it just meant he had more time to exercise and get ahead of his deliveries.

It was a few hours later when he returned to Main Street. He was sure that the election was over at that point and was headed to collect the newly printed papers when, about halfway down Main Street, Odie stopped. A distinct shuffling from behind him caught his attention. He turned to see what it caused it but there wasn’t anything behind him. Gripping the strap to his bag, Odie began to pick up his pace. The shuffling continued again after a moment. This time it came from even closer behind him. Odie ignored it as he continued onwards. He knew if he could just get inside he’d be safe from… Well, Odie wasn’t exactly sure what he was running from, but he had a feeling that it’d be bad if it ever caught up to him.

Odie was just outside the Dead Canary when he realized that the shuffling had stopped. Cautiously, he slowed his pace and chanced a peek behind him. Nothing.

Had he just imagined it? No, he couldn’t have… could he?

Shaking his head, Odie readjusted the strap on his shoulder and turned back around. He began to make his way down the empty street again but before he could more than a few steps in, Odie felt some hard smack him on the back. He fell to the ground, mailbag flying off his shoulder as he landed. He tried to pick himself up, but only worked to flip over onto back. Odie gasped as something sharp stabbed deep into his stomach. His vision blurred as he attempted to kick his attacker away, but none of his retaliations were landing. A deep slash to his chest caused blood to splash around him. Odie felt his eyes roll back as the last of his life drained from him.

Odie Doty’s only regret was that he hadn’t managed to deliver the newspapers before he died. How was Connor Creek supposed to learn who won the election now?


	7. Requiem for the Futile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Madison chapter. Looks into her relationship with Ryan and the election.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Werewolves, Politics

Madison had known from a very young age that she wanted to be the next sheriff of Connor Creek. Ryan, however, had never seemed to understand why. She supposed it made sense given how he was always more focused on how the town could change to better itself, rather than upholding the laws that already existed. This difference in opinions was the base for the majority of their disagreements. Ever since they were children Madison and Ryan would find ways to disagree. Madison would want to strictly follow the rules of whatever game they were playing, while Ryan would always try and change it up, insisting it was more fun that way. It certainly made family game night lively.

Being appointed the newest sheriff of Connor Creek was perhaps Madison’s proudest moment. While she was certainly nervous about all the new responsibilities she’d be taking on, she just knew she’d be the best sheriff Connor Creek had ever seen. Ryan didn’t see it like that, though.

Ever since Madison got appointed, her brother had only gotten more critical of her. Don’t get it wrong, Ryan was proud of his sister, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to constantly go on about how she was just perpetuating the cycle of corruption within the system. Or something like that. Honestly, Madison had stopped listening to his rants after the dozenth one.

It wasn’t like she didn’t know the problems that existed, but who was she to change something that worked? It wasn’t her place to go changing things. Honestly, she probably would have just messed everything up if she tried. No, she was much more comfortable upholding what was already in place rather than creating waves. Besides, none of the other residents of Connor Creek ever complained about how things worked before.

Ryan must have realized at some point that his efforts to change his sister’s frame of mind were futile. Perhaps that’s why he had decided to run for town council. When Madison had first learned of her brother’s plans she was surprised. Sure, she knew Ryan was always thinking about ways to better the town, but she had never expected him to actually stick his foot into the political waters.

While she ultimately couldn’t see why he would want to change Connor Creek, she was supportive of her brother. Madison knew how much the town meant to him and figured the least she could do was help him with his campaign. It wasn’t like there was much else for her to do with how little crime was actually present in town. While Madison herself didn’t have many ideas about how to better the town, she was there to listen.

All the nuances in Connor Creek’s politics never really clicked with her, but she was trying, and she could tell that Ryan appreciated it. That was one of the better parts of their relationships. While they certainly got into quite a bit of disagreements, they were always there for one another. And, at the end of the day, no matter how badly they got on one another’s nerves, they loved each other.

The night the podcasters arrived, however, had changed everything. 

Madison had just stepped out of the Dead Canary to start her nightly patrol. Since Connor Creek only had the one street, it usually didn’t take her long to reach one end of town, especially since the Dead Canary was located in the center of town. She had headed towards the direction of town hall and was doubling back when she saw something crumpled over just outside the bar. She had assumed it was an injured animal, but getting closer, she knew it was anything but.

Madison rushed to Ryan’s side with a scream. This couldn’t be happening, she thought as she fell to her knees beside him. Some of the other townsfolk stepped out from their houses, likely drawn in by the sound of her pleading for help. No one made any move to do anything as she stayed by Ryan’s side, sobbing. There wasn’t anything they could do, Madison knew that, but seeing them just standing there… she couldn’t help but feel a pang of betrayal.

She wasn’t sure how she managed to get any rest that night. Her dreams were haunted by the image of her brother’s bloody corpse. Madison didn’t know how Rita could stand dealing with dead bodies. She wasn’t sure if she was impressed or deeply disturbed by the revelation. Actually, no, she was definitely leaning towards disturbed.

She returned to the Dead Canary the night after. It hurt knowing that she was sitting just a few yards away from the last spot where her brother’s had breathed, but she really needed a drink and she didn’t have any alcohol at home. 

Madison was expecting a quiet night so the appearance of Jeremiah only worked to tick her off. That wasn’t even to mention how adamantly he was trying to get her to change her mind on the Viking funeral. Eventually, it was just too much.

“Oh, back off, alright? We are not holding my brother’s service at the church, Jeremiah! We’re not religious. We’re lighting him aflame and we are pushing him off into the sea, as was his last request!”

Madison knew she was being harsh, it was just that Jeremiah could be _really_ irritating, especially when it came to anything church related. She vaguely registered Desmond cutting off her alcohol supply, which was fair as she’d been drinking for the past few hours.

She could feel herself getting worked up again as Jeremiah spoke. “No, my son, we are all equal in the eyes of God. Let her strike a holy man if she must.” Jeremiah gulped as Madison stood. “But only if she must.” 

She was seriously considering it, but ultimately decided he wasn’t worth her time. So, grabbing her hat, she stormed out of the Dead Canary.

Madison wasn’t one for politics. She had only ever attended a handful of council meetings before, and those were mostly to support Ryan. So it was quite a surprise when she showed up that Friday. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been that surprising, given how her brother had died just a few days prior. It was understandable that she wanted to know what the town council was going to do about it, if anything. To her disappointment, however, it seemed they were simply going to gloss over that fact, opting to swear in Truman instead. 

Madison really hated that woman. Who did she think she was coming into their town and running for town council as if it were some game? She saw how Truman acted during the early debates. It was quite clear to her and her brother that she was only in it for her own personal gain. The townsfolk, however, well, they could be quite blind. It wasn’t anything Madison judged them for, but growing up with someone like Ryan tended to force her eyes open about certain things.

Madison really wished she had a plan before she spoke up like she did during the meeting. Thankfully, Artemis had her back. Sure, she put her on the spot a bit, but thinking about it, it made sense. No one else knew Ryan’s campaign as well as she did. She was literally the perfect person to run in his stead. And it would certainly put Truman in her place when the goods townspeople voted Madison onto town council.

She had expected Artemis to be on her side about the decision, but it seemed like she was mostly regretting it when they spoke that night. Madison reassured her that she would be fine. She was fully capable of juggling her duties as sheriff and the campaign, after all. It didn’t even matter if Miner Mole was backing Truman’s campaign. Madison knew the people of Connor Creek, and she knew they would make the right decision during tomorrow’s election.

At least, that’s what she thought. But then Artemis got chased by that _werewolf_ and Madison had to miss showing up at the polls because she had so much work to do with the new development. It was as if everything she knew was crumbling down around her.

Thinking about it, Madison should have known she didn’t have a real chance at winning. She didn’t know anything about being a politician, let alone how to enact any of the plans Ryan had for the town. Her entire campaign was just riding on the coattails of her brother’s work. Madison wasn’t even sure why she tried in the first place. Artemis’s enthusiasm was certainly infectious, but she should have known better. With all the recent killings, Madison was already swamped with work. Why did she think she could take on being a town council member on top of all that?

It stung a bit knowing the townsfolk didn’t want her running the town, but ultimately she understood why. She just wished her opposition was anyone but Truman. While Madison may not have won the election, she was still the sheriff of Connor Creek. And she’d be damned if she let those monsters behind the killings get away with all they’d done to her town.


	8. Requiem for Seclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The town of Connor Creek has been put under a spotlight, and with it all its secrets and Desmond gets to watch it all unfold.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Politics

Desmond had been running the Dead Canary for a long time and working as a barkeep meant he got to hear many different stories from many different people. Operating in a small town like Connor Creek meant that they rarely got outsiders, and those that did pass through generally didn’t stay for long. Desmond had always found those people to have the most interesting stories to tell; the people who just had to get away for a bit and unload in a little nobody town. 

He didn’t get a lot of opportunities to say his piece about anything his customers said and he learned early on that it was better to just listen to their problems than discuss it. Honestly, at times Desmond felt more like a confessional booth than a bartender. Which wasn’t to say that he wouldn’t turn in someone if they were dumb enough to confess something like robbery or assault, but most people’s loads were more tame than that.

Desmond rarely asked his customers for names; it was a little too personal for him. Granted, he did have to often check for ID but he tended to just skim over the actual name, focusing more on their picture and date of birth. Most times they never gave him a name to call them by but, every now and then, he’d get a proper name for a face.

Truman Hensley had come to Connor Creek about two years ago. She owned a home in town but had dropped by the Dead Canary the night she moved. Desmond had assumed she came in to greet the locals, but there rarely was more than a handful of patrons in the bar on a good day. Obviously Henry was there, but he was snoring peacefully into his pint.

Desmond watched as she scanned the bar before taking a seat a good distance from Henry- smart decision.

“You must be Desmond, the barkeep. I’m Truman Hensley.”

Desmond shook her outstretched hand, which was cold to the touch.

“Agnes has told me quite a bit about the town,” she continued, “and I have to say Connor Creek has such a lively history.”

Desmond simply nodded, waiting for her to continue. She appeared to have not expected the barkeep to keep quiet and glanced around, as if to find anything else to talk about.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but is he alright?” Truman pointed towards the unconscious man a few seats away from her.

“Oh, don’t mind Dr. Edwards, he’s just had a little too much to drink. Speaking of, can I get you anything?”

“Oh, no that’s quite alright. I had initially come here in hopes to speak with some of the locals and get acquainted with the town, but it seems I’ll have to do so elsewhere. It was nice meeting you, Desmond.”

Desmond nodded once more before watching her leave. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling she was going to be trouble for the town.

It was about a year after Truman moved into Connor Creek that the town found itself welcoming another new resident. Desmond was wiping down the counter when the door opened, revealing the face of a man he didn’t recognize. His pristine cowboy boots clicked on the hardwood as he approached the counter and took a seat.

“Barkeep, a flute of your finest champagne.”

Desmond rolled his eyes but fulfilled the request nonetheless. The man took the flute and downed it in a quick gulp. He grimaced as he placed the glass back down, but gestured for a refill, which Desmond complied.

It wasn’t until after his third refill that the man spoke again, “It’s all bullshit. Sure, I may have spent _a little_ more than was safe to but Miner Mole wouldn’t even be anything without me! Y’know whose idea it was to start the ‘All American, All Mine’ initiative in the first place? That’s right, it was _me_! And what’s the thanks I get? A demotion and relocation to this two-bit town, that’s what!” He roughly placed his elbow on the counter, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. “I should be living it large in my own penthouse, not stuck in this dirty town.”

The man, who Desmond now knew for a fact was none other than Silas Torsen, downed the rest of his champagne before standing up. He pulled out his wallet and slapped down a crisp hundred dollar bill.

“A little something for listening and keeping your mouth shut.”

Desmond wasn’t given a chance to respond as Silas stormed out of the bar right after, leaving him alone once more. Yeah, he _really_ didn’t like that guy.

When those two podcasters came to town Desmond had been expecting them to keep to themselves like Truman and Silas. Well, as to themselves as they could be given how they were there to investigate the town. But then Ryan just had to go and get himself killed.

A murder in Connor Creek was certainly not anything Desmond had seen in the years he’d been living in the town. It was a shock to say the least, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Better for him to just move on and leave that whole mess to the professionals. He just wished those podcasters hadn’t gotten so attached to their story. 

Desmond knew Artemis meant well, but he had a feeling that she was digging into things that were just going to get her into a load of trouble. That was clear enough after the attack at Prism’s and even more so when she found herself in some trouble the following night. And Paul, well, Desmond was glad he was already back on his feet. Though the sudden appetite for raw meat was certainly… strange given how he was pretty sure Paul was vegan, but he knew better than to question it.

Honestly, what Desmond was worried about most, aside from the recent string of murders, was the fact that Truman had just been elected onto town council. She certainly wasted no time enacting her agenda by passing her first act. The extraction of silver from the mines was going to prove to be quite problematic. It seemed like it was getting harder and harder to keep things quiet in their little town. And with Miner Mole only digging its claws deeper into the town, Desmond had no doubt that many of Connor Creek’s secrets would be entering the light soon. But Desmond knew better than anyone that some things were best kept a secret.


	9. Requiem for the Odd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Barney and his egg.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Blood, Blood and Injury

Barney Fletcher was taking a stroll through the surrounding woods when he came across it. It was sitting by its lonesome in a patch of grass, clueless to its own importance in the world. And Barney couldn’t have been luckier than to be the one to find it, to find the last dinosaur egg on Earth.

The egg would surely be the thing that brought Connor Creek into the modern world, Barney just knew it. Plus, he wasn’t going to complain about a little more cash from tourists who wanted to see said egg. Not that that was the reason why he wanted to exhibit the egg. It was for the town, gosh darn it!

When Barney had brought his discovery to Agnes he had fully anticipated her support. So it came as a surprise when she simply brushed him off and called his discovery a ‘simple egg.’ He knew it would be harder to advertise the exhibit without the help of the town travel agent but he’ll be damned if he didn’t try anyways.

Barney had spent a good amount of his savings printing out brochures and shirts in the hopes that it would draw in a crowd. Unfortunately, not many people actually stopped by Connor Creek, at least not in recent years. This just meant that he’d have to convince the town that the egg was a good investment. It couldn’t be that hard, could it?

As it turned out, just about everyone thought his claims were pure nonsense. Well, the Irons family had seemed quite intrigued but when he told them how much admission was to see it… well let’s just say they weren’t _that_ intrigued. Barney had also managed to convince Jeremiah to pay admission, but it was on the condition that he’d attend church.

He had legitimately considered accepting the offer, figuring he could go once and then never speak of it again. But he had a feeling that if he complied, he’d end up regretting it. The man was desperate enough for people to go to church that if Barney showed any sign of weakness, he’d likely have the pastor stuck to him like glue. So Barney, in the interest of self-preservation, decided to decline.

Given the scarcity of outsiders visiting Connor Creek, Barney was quite surprised when word started going around about two podcasters doing some sort of investigation on the town. Barney couldn’t care less about the investigation. No, what he cared about was convincing the two to see the last dinosaur egg on Earth and spreading the word through their show. There’s just no way either of them could possibly resist such a discovery.

He had pulled out his old vest just for the occasion. It was a little outdated, but damn if there weren’t some classic pins and patches on it. He knew that Agnes would be giving the two a tour of the town the day after they arrived so Barney knew that was the perfect time to meet them. He knew Agnes’s tour route like the back of his hand and knew that the best place to intercept the podcasters was near the end of the tour, right before Aubrey’s.

Barney had been expecting Agnes to fight him on his advertising, but he had been anticipating it to be while she was actually on the tour with her clients. So, it was quite a surprise finding her alone a bit aways from Aubrey’s. 

That couldn’t be right, Barney thought. Ags wasn’t scheduled to show the tourists- newcomers Aubrey’s for another few minutes.

Before he had the chance to do anything Agnes spotted him.

“Oh, no. Barney, now is not a good time,” she said. “I am conducting a very important tour right now and I do not need you and that egg distracting my clients.”

“‘That egg’ just so happens to be the _last_ dinosaur egg left on Earth. Honestly, Ags, I just don’t understand why you’re so against promoting it!”

“Because it’s a load of hooey! And I don’t need you scaring off the newcomers.” Agnes paused, eyeing Barney’s outfit for the first time. “Barney Fletcher, what are you wearing? Is that a biker vest? And what is with the hat? I just- there is just so much going on here, I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Look, don’t worry about my outfit. Worry about the thing that will bring in so many tourists that you won’t even know what to do with yourself!”

Agnes shook her head. “No, no, absolutely not. There is no way you’re wearing _that_ in front of Paul and Artemis! You’re going to make them think Connor Creek is full of… _looneys_!”

“Ages, don’t get mad at what I’m wearing, just let me talk to-”

Barney was quickly cut off as Agnes shoved him and his brochure to the side at the sight of Paul and Artemis approached the two. They quickly put on a smile, pretending as if they weren’t just arguing. Barney never understood why Agnes didn’t want to promote his egg, especially when he knew just how big a deal it was. Honestly, if the town travel agent wasn’t going to do her job correctly and point people to his attraction, then perhaps it would be better for him to take matters into his own hams.

With the werewolf mania running amok through town, Barney figured this was a great opportunity to advertise his egg. Granted, Barney thought every opportunity was a great one to advertise the egg. He knew that there would be a town meeting later that day, but he had other things to worry about, such as getting the word out about the new WolfEgg discount.

Barney had been alone by the Dead Canary putting up his newly printed fliers for the egg when it happened. A figure stepped out of the bushes. Barney turned around and was face-to-face with a very familiar face. He opened his mouth to greet them when his eyes suddenly widened. In their hand was a knife. Realizing what was about to happen, Barney quickly jumped out of the way with a shout, managing to only suffer a nick to the side. Damn jacket, what was the point of leather if it didn’t protect him?

He knew that the majority of the town was at town hall so, rolling out of the way of a second attack, Barney began to sprint over. Not missing a beat, his attacker was hot on his heels. The two tore down the empty street, getting ever closer to sanctuary. That was, before Barney tripped right outside the building. He rolled over onto his back, cradling the egg close to his chest to protect it from the fall.

While the egg was safe, Barney wasn’t. His pursuer pounced on him, delivering a deep slash to his neck. Blood flowed out from the newly afflicted wound as Barney managed to grab a handful of dirt and flung it into the attacker’s eyes before kicking them off him. He ran inside the building, tearing his vest off as he did as it was useless to him. No, what Barney was most worried about was perhaps the most important thing in the world.

“Help me! My egg!” Barney had shouted as he stumbled into the meeting hall, clinging to life. “Preserve my egg!”

Barney was so caught up in trying to preserve the last dinosaur egg on Earth that he had neglected to tell the townsfolk who had done this to him. By the time he realized this, it was too late. With a gasp, Barney was dead and with him, the last dinosaur egg on Earth.


	10. Requiem for the Wordless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crispin mourns the loss of a friend.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Selective Mutism

How does someone who doesn’t speak communicate with his community? Well, Crispin found that it was often easier to simply direct anyone who would attempt to talk to him away from him. Usually, it would be towards Rita as he often worked with her, but Odie also proved to be quite a reliable man.

The mailman was one of the few people in the town Crispin felt comfortable around. Granted, not enough to openly speak, but comfortable enough to allow him to hold a mostly one sided conversation with him. Though Crispin had a feeling that if the two were ever truly alone he might have been able to speak around him. Odie never made him feel as if he were a burden or a nuisance and despite being the one to hold up the conversation, Crispin never felt like he were simply being talked at either.

It was strange when Odie first started talking to him. Crispin had initially thought he was talking to someone else, at least until he called him out by name. As per usual, he had tried to redirect Odie away from him, but the man cut him off, explaining how he had simply wanted to talk with Crispin. He didn’t exactly understand why but decided to humor him.

It had started with a few ‘yes’ or ‘no’ type questions and, eventually, he found himself enjoying the mailman’s company. Crispin wasn’t exactly sure how but Odie always knew what he was feeling; it was something that he became grateful for the longer they were friends.

It hit Crispin hard when he learned of his friend’s death. He hadn’t really noticed how close the two had gotten but now that Odie was gone, it was as if he had lost a part of himself. Out of routine, he waited around Main Street; just outside Riley’s gun depot. He waited around for hours, but something felt off. Where was Odie? Crispin knew the man was constantly running around town delivering mail, but he always seemed to have time for him, even if it was just to say ‘hi.’ It hit him then, Odie was really dead; he would never see him again.

Crispin’s breathing became ragged and he quickly walked away, not wanting anyone to see him. He slipped behind a random building and buried his face in his hands. He was shaking as he choked out a sob. Tears flowed down his face as he rocked himself back and forth, mourning for his friend. Crispin hadn’t realized it at the time, but the building he had hid behind was none other than the post office. Realizing this nearly sent Crispin into another wave of tears, but, swallowing the lump in his throat, he managed to hold them back. He gazed at the building for a bit before wiping his eyes and walking away.

He couldn’t help but keep thinking about how he had helped Rita move Odie that morning. It just wasn’t sitting well with him, especially since he knew exactly what she was going to do with his friend’s body. Crispin wished he could have done something about it, but it wasn’t his place. Besides, if he were being honest, Rita scared him.

That was probably the main reason why he agreed to help Rita move bodies. Well, that and he knew that no one else would even consider helping her. Crispin figured he was bearing the burden of Rita’s morbidity so no one else would have to.

Even after helping Rita for years, he wasn’t exactly used to seeing so many dead bodies, especially within such a short amount of time. He hadn’t realized it the first two times, but with the death of Odie, Crispin was really starting to feel the weight of all the deaths. And now there was the whole werewolf mania happening, which was just… a lot. Still, he knew it would be beneficial to attend the meeting that was happening.

Crispin had arrived at town hall with the majority of the townsfolk. He sat in his seat quietly waiting for the meeting to start, but it wasn’t long before arguments exploded all around him. He wasn’t even sure who started it but the room had quickly turned into a sea of shouts. His breathing grew ragged once more. No, no, no. Not now, he thought, burying his face in his hands. He began to rock himself back and forth, willing himself to not cry.

Thankfully, he got a handle on himself at the same time that Artemis attempted to speak to him again. He didn’t blame her for forgetting that he didn’t speak; she was new after all. But it seemed she was catching on quick.

From his left, Crispin heard someone shouting at him. He turned to glare at the offending person, aggressively pointing at them. Rocky and Jewel turned and began to shout at him. He plugged his ears, not wanting to hear what they had to say. He could just barely hear Rocky talking about how immature he was being as he flipped them the double bird and blew a big raspberry.

At that moment, Agnes caught everyone’s attention and quieted the room. She then introduced the In Memoriam. As soon as Rita stood, Crispin knew that nothing good could come of it. He was right as soon as he saw what she had done to Odie’s body. He was at least glad that everyone else saw it as disgusting and immoral as he did.

He didn’t even want to know what Rita did with Prism’s body and was ever grateful for Cliff interrupting. At least, he was before everyone started shouting again. It was more organized yelling this time, but still. Crispin leaned back in his seat, tuning out the other townsfolk. That was, until Barney came charging in.

He, along with the rest of the townsfolk turned to the man. Crispin was used to seeing blood. He supposed that was one of the few good things that came from helping Rita. But it was a much different experience seeing it coming from someone who was still clinging to life. He barely registered Barney shouting about preserving his ‘dinosaur egg’ which everyone fucking knew it was just a normal egg. No, he was too busy processing the fact that there had been another attack and Barney was dying right before them.

Crispin watched Barney’s body thud against the hard floor of the meeting room. Standing up, he felt something bubbling up out of his throat. From his mouth, Crispin uttered the first words he’s spoken in public in years.

“Oh, fuck.” 


	11. Requiem for the Uninformed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Walkers love their gossip. But what they love even more than hearing about the hot goss, is spreading it.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Politics

“I heard Jewel got pulled out of school to start working with her parents in the mines.”

“I heard…”

“I heard…”

“I heard Sybilus recently started working for Silas Torsen.”

“Which is quite strange as he’s been against the drilling of the silver mines since Miner Mole first branched here.”

“Yes, quite strange indeed. Suspicious, even…”

“I heard…”

“I heard…”

“I heard that the Reynolds boy is running for town council.”

In a town as small as Connor Creek, there wasn’t actually a lot to gossip about. This was a fact Mary Jo and Ellis Walker found quite disappointing. Don’t get it wrong, though, they loved the town. They simply wished it wasn’t so… _predictable_. Since starting their florist business, the Walkers had heard many whispers about. But despite this, they didn’t actually know anything. Or, at least they tended to be the last to learn of any news in the town. It was something that Mary Jo and Ellis knew quite well. Still, they prided themselves on how knowledgeable they were about the town and its people.

When Miner Mole first developed a branch in Connor Creek, the Walkers were ecstatic. Finally something interesting to gossip about, they thought. Plus, with the appearance of such a large company, it would no doubt bring in many new faces. And the Walkers knew that new faces meant new gossip. To their disappointment, however, it seemed as if they wouldn’t be seeing any new faces anytime soon, not when the town council was so evenly split on whether they should allow the drilling in the first place. 

While the Walkers knew that seeing new faces would have to wait until after the election, there was plenty of new gossip being born in these times. With the townsfolk so split between the Truman and Reynolds campaign, there was no shortage of news for the two florists to hear and spread. Of course, you didn’t hear it from them.

Hearing about the podcasters coming into town was probably some of the biggest news the florists had heard in a good while. That was, until the death of Ryan Reynolds. Connor Creek hadn’t had a murder in their town since… ever. Well, at least not in anyone’s recent memories. This sudden death caused quite a stir among the townsfolk. Just about everyone could feel the anxiety and fear in the air. It was quite reasonable for such an occurrence, and it was something the Walkers relished.

Of course, Mary Jo and Ellis were truly sad for the death of the Reynolds boy; as sad as anyone would be, really. But it didn’t mean they weren’t going to take advantage of such big news and start spreading some gossip. And with those podcasters investigating the town, it was giving the Walkers some inspiration to perhaps start an investigation of their own. It was something Ellis had brought up one night and Mary Jo wholeheartedly approved.

Until they got all the necessary tools needed to investigate such a mystery, however, they’d have to continue to rely on simple word of mouth. This was fine with the florists, as word of mouth was their self-proclaimed specialty. And, unbeknownst to them, there would be another attack not more than a day after Paul and Artemis arrived in town.

With the bodycount of Connor Creek growing in such a short amount of time, it was really starting to create some business for the Walkers. This would have been great were they not also about to start their own investigation. Alas, it seemed they would have to put it off a bit longer. Plus, with the town council meeting there would no doubt be more gossip for Mary Jo and Ellis to find now that Truman would be taking the open seat. That’s what they thought, at least.

Madison deciding to run in her brother’s place was such a juicy piece of gossip that the Walkers were devastated to learn about it hours later. Had they not been swamped with work, they could have attended the meeting and experienced the spectacle themselves. This was the last straw that had the Walkers deciding to start their investigation that night. They decided on the plan that Ellis would go out at night and do some solo investigation while Mary Jo stayed behind and finished all their orders. That way they could continue the investigation in earnest by attending the town meeting that would no doubt be happening soon.

That was the plan, at least, until the whole word of a werewolf attack started to spread itself through the town. From what Mary Jo and Ellis knew, it had started with Donny overhearing Paul asking Riley about some large wolf that had attacked Artemis last night. And that wasn’t even to mention the death of Odie Doty that same night. The boy’s imagination snowballed and soon he was telling just about everyone about a werewolf attack. It made sense to the Walkers. There couldn’t have been any other possible explanation to the recent murders; it had to have been werewolves.

Taking this new information in stride, the two began to discuss possible suspects. Obviously, everyone who had died so far couldn’t have been a werewolf, and they were pretty sure the podcasters were safe too, but that still required a little more digging. So far, they had only really managed to conclude Agnes as a possible wolf, while crossing Rita off the list. Of course, Ellis had gone on a follow-up investigation during the meeting that night to find clues to support their suspicions. It turned out to be quite an investigation, according to Ellis.

Mary Jo, on the other hand, was tasked with attending the meeting itself to get a read on the whole townsfolk situation. There was certainly a lot of chaos happening in the room and little did she know that she would be present for yet another death; the death of none other than Barney Fletcher. Who could have done it, she wondered. It couldn’t have been anyone present at the meeting, and of course not her Ellis. Mary Jo was practically bursting with excitement. The hot goss just kept getting hotter.


	12. Requiem for Normality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man, I really missed the opportunity to make chapter 2 Sybilus's chapter, didn't I? Contains some spoilers for Episode 7.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death (Mentioned), Werewolves, Politics

Sybilus Silver II loved being an accountant at the 2nd Bank of Connor Creek. He, however, did not love how the bank had assigned him to be Silas Torsen’s accountant. Sybilus supposed it made sense for him to be the one to oversee Miner Mole’s finances, as he’d already been handling the accounts for the town’s silver deposits. It still didn’t mean he had to like it, though.

Silas Torsen was an… interesting boss. He was certainly demanding, that was for sure. And he wasn’t exactly the patient type so Sybilus did his best to limit his speaking, finding that it made their meetings go more smoothly. It wasn’t too hard as most of their meetings were just reviewing the numbers and double checking that everything was in order. 

Dealing with all of Miner Mole’s accounts meant that he got a peek at many of the inner workings of the company. And one of the biggest transactions that Sybilus noticed was with the Truman Campaign. Although Sybilus knew of the dealings, he didn’t exactly understand why at first. It became clear soon enough when Truman spoke of invigorating the town’s economy through Connor Creek’s silver mines early in her campaign. It made sense that Miner Mole would want another pro-miner on town council; they had been at a grid-lock for ages on whether to increase mining, so having her as the swing seat would secure that act for the company. Sybilus could honestly say that he was terrified of the possibility of Silas gaining full control of the mines. If there were a way he could have done something without jeopardizing his job then he surely would have done it by now. However, all he could do was hope that Ryan and the townsfolk managed to pull through in the election.

At least, he was hoping that until the man died. Honestly, there could not have been a worse time for him to be murdered. Granted, anyone getting murdered was terrible, but Ryan’s death specifically only spelled disaster for just about everyone. Everyone except Miner Mole.

Usually, Sybilus wouldn’t meet with Silas until the end of the month, but there had been a change in plans when Silas had called the banker in for an impromptu meeting Thursday. When he showed up for the meeting, it was quite clear to Sybilus that Silas saw Ryan’s death as a win for Miner Mole. Silas had gloated about it for a good half hour. Of course, he never outright claimed he had any part in it, but Sybilus was already suspicious of the man, so his celebration certainly didn’t help his case.

Eventually, Silas did get to the point of their meeting. Turned out the man was already anticipating the drilling to begin at any time, knowing that Truman would be on the council soon. Sybilus had tried to talk the man out of any ‘rash’ financial decisions but at the end of the day, he knew he was just an unwilling pawn in Miner Mole’s scheme and there wasn’t any way he could stop it.

That was why he was surprised when Madison decided to run in her brother’s stead. Of course, he couldn’t show it in the moment, but he was absolutely delighted by the news. Sybilus knew it would be a hard fight, but he had hope that she’d keep Truman away from the council seat. Though, in hindsight, he should have known how small a possibility Madison winning the election really was.

Sybilus had known the election was over the moment he realized Madison wouldn’t make it to the polls. It was reasonable given all the extra work that’d been put on her from the recent murders, but he still couldn’t help but feel that things could have gone differently had she just shown up. Regardless, the election must go on, even when Rita had to be called away partway through the Caucuses.

He knew in the pit of his stomach that something had happened. Sybilus supposed that was one of the reasons why his stuttering had gotten as bad as it did. He’d be the first to admit that he was quite embarrassed for stretching the Caucuses for much longer than they should have gone. Though he wished that Aubrey hadn’t been so quick as to cut him off when he was just about to announce the victor. While Sybilus certainly wasn’t happy about the result of the election, he had already spent so long speaking that he felt he should have been the one to see it through. But he wasn’t a prideful man and knew that it wasn’t worth fighting Aubrey on the matter. Perhaps if he hadn’t taken nearly two hours to get through the rest of the Caucuses he might have, but Sybilus didn’t want to take up any more of the good people’s morning.

Sybilus had thought that once Truman was sworn onto the council she would have the decency to at least wait before calling for a vote to ease mining regulations, but he was wrong. As soon as she was able to, she had him of all people call the vote. It was as if she had handed him a loaded gun and told him to choose whether to shoot his people, or his town; it was an impossible decision, but it was one he had no choice in the matter to make. Sybilus knew it was his duty as a member of the town council to uphold the good people’s voice and to do that, he’d have to allow for the vote. Besides, he was pretty sure that if he hadn’t he might as well have stuck a target on his back for whoever was behind the killings.

Obviously, the motion passed by one measly vote. It infuriated Sybilus to no end but he kept it together as best he could; which mostly consisted of avoiding eye contact with anyone until the meeting was adjourned.

He had honestly thought that things couldn’t have gone worse than Truman winning and the silver mining starting, but it seemed he was wrong about a lot of things that day. Sybilus wasn’t sure where the werewolf mania had even started, but it was getting quite out of hand. The possibility of werewolves in Connor Creek wasn’t anything new, but the way the townsfolk were acting this time around… it wasn’t anything he’d seen before.

There had only been one other werewolf scare that he could remember in his lifetime and that was back when he was still a child. The people had been manic for sure, but it was much more controlled and died down just about as quick as it appeared. To think that the people he called his friends were so thirsty for wolf blood… well, he supposed it made sense given the recent murders. He just simply wished that they had truly thought everything through before Truman had called for the wolf hunt.

But he supposed there wasn’t anything he could do to change their minds now, not unless he wanted to die. If they could only manage to bring the real killer to light, then maybe, just maybe, everything could go back to normal.

No. No, he knew that normal was too far out of reach now. There was no way to truly return to the old normal. They could only move forwards from here, and Sybilus only hoped that he’d survive long enough to see the new normal.


	13. Requiem for the Unappreciated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wallis and GPS love helping people around Connor Creek. If only they felt the same.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death (Mentioned)

Wallis and Garmin- who was better known as ‘GPS’- had lived in Connor Creek their whole lives and knew every nook, cranny, and stone in the small town like the back of their hand. Wallis, personally, couldn’t remember the number of times the two of them had spent the day counting the river rocks, making sure they were all in order. He supposed that GPS likely had it written down somewhere though.

No one in town quite knew why they counted the river rocks so often, but no one tried to stop them either. Even when there had been many instances where they made a big fuss about a single rock missing, to the point of attempting to gather the townsfolk to search for it. No one volunteered, of course. As it turned out, the rock had simply washed downstream- a fact that Wallis and GPS didn’t learn of until the very end of the day. They were embarrassed about it, for sure, but it didn’t take long for them to brush it off.

While the two tended to overreact at times, they were well meaning. There were some who would describe Wallis and GPS as the boy scouts of Connor Creek. Well, if the boys scouts had grown up but never outgrew the boy scout mentality. Everyone in town knew that they were always hanging around the center of town. It was very rare that anyone from town would actually ask for directions, given how they had also grown up in Connor Creek, but they were eager to give directions nonetheless.

Usually, they would simply be ignored or just receive an eye roll in response. Dr. Henry, however, was always an interesting one to give directions to. Wallis and GPS never knew if the man would simply ignore them or flip them off with a rude remark. It became like a fun game for them. Wallis would usually see the man leaving the Dead Canary and the two would try and guess what type of response they’d get that day. GPS was surprisingly good at the game. Wallis figured that he had discovered some sort of pattern, but Wallis just couldn’t seem to find one himself.

When Wallis and GPS weren’t giving directions in the center of town, they were often wandering the town, looking for any irregularities and possible dangers wandering about. Sheriff Reynolds had enlisted them to help keep an eye on the town a while back and they were more than happy to do so. Of course, that didn’t mean they didn’t take their responsibilities seriously. In fact, some would even say they took it a little  _ too _ seriously.

Madison never outright scolded them for their overeagerness, but they could tell that some of their reports annoyed her. One such report was actually on the same day the new folks came to town. Wallis and GPS had actually been one of the first to learn that the new folks would be visiting Connor Creek. The mere prospect of newcomers was very exciting to them and apparently they were podcasters too; which, if they understood correctly, was similar to radio. It wasn’t the podcasting aspect that excited them though. No, what excited them was the prospect that they would be able to actually give directions to people that didn’t already know the town. Their town could be quite dangerous if someone didn’t know their way around, after all. 

Why, just that afternoon there had been a Bogie on Pine Mountain Road. It was funny actually, because of the Bogie- which was just a turtle meandering across the road- Wallis and GPS had actually been able to meet Artemis and Paul before they even got into town, if only briefly. They certainly seemed like kind folks, but they hadn’t exactly been able to get to know them too well since Wallis and GPS had work elsewhere. Still it was nice to meet them briefly and they figured they’d run into them again eventually.

Turned out they were right in their assumption. Well, sort of. Wallis had briefly seen Artemis and Paul the night Ryan died, having been one of the first to answer Madison’s scream. Wallis hadn’t spoken to them though, but he took note of the fact that the two didn’t waste any time reporting the incident. He couldn’t help but feel that was a bit insensitive of them, but he knew that they were just doing their job, so he chose not to say anything.

The very next day Wallis and GPS saw Artemis and Paul walking back from Aubrey’s, likely just finishing Agnes’s tour. Wallis, who was just coming back from a patrol popped up behind them. While they had met twice prior, it wasn’t long enough to get properly introduced to one another, so Wallis and GPS introduced themselves then.

Despite not being explicitly asked to give them directions to the Dead Canary, they happily provided them. Wallis had given GPS a customary hi-five as Artemis and Paul walked away, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance as they simply headed back to the inn without another word to either of them. Plus, based on their reactions, it didn’t seem like either of them were thankful for the help. He had figured the two would at least thank them.

GPS picked up on Wallis’s annoyance quite quickly. Reading Wallis was basically second nature for him at that point, as they’d been close ever since they were children.

“Are you alright, Wallis?”

He simply sighed before turning to him, putting on a smile, “Yeah. Come on, we should go check on those rocks.”

GPS knew that he wasn’t guaranteed a straight answer from Wallis. The man was always more concerned with making others happy and it hurt GPS to see him bottling his emotions. At the same time, however, he knew prying wasn’t going to help. Not now, at least. GPS could only hope that counting the river rocks would at least make Wallis feel better.

As it turned out, however, Wallis still wasn’t feeling much better a few hours later. GPS figured part of it was because they couldn’t finish counting the rocks, since it had gotten late and they needed to do the night patrol. Madison and them usually switched off nights and since she had taken last night’s it was their turn. Even if it wasn’t, though, they probably would have taken over that night since they knew that Ryan’s death must have been hard for her. Besides, GPS figured that during the patrol would be a good time to talk to Wallis, given how everyone would be asleep.

“So… those new folk sure seem nice,” GPS began.

Wallis shrugged, keeping his eyes on the streets, “Didn’t say much, though.”

“Isn’t that how it usually goes?”

“I guess…” Wallis sighed, “I don’t know, Garmin. I just wish people would at least say ‘thank you’ when we help them! It’s not that hard!”

“Well… it’s not the thanks that matter. Who else is going to give directions if not us?”

“But do people even  _ need _ us to give directions?”

GPS had to take a moment to think it over. “Just because people don’t show they’re thankful, that doesn’t mean they aren’t inside.”

“Maybe…”

GPS knew that Wallis wasn’t entirely convinced, but he also knew that pressing wouldn’t help. So the two ended up continuing their patrol in silence.

Wallis and GPS saw Artemis by herself a couple days later. Wallis put on a smile, despite knowing she wasn’t going to ask them for directions. Which is why it was quite a surprise when she turned to them and asked how to get to Town Hall. Wallis was quick to shake off his shock and leaned in towards GPS as he whispered the directions to him, which he promptly relayed to her. While she still didn’t thank them, Wallis didn’t feel as annoyed about it. He had thought about what GPS was telling him last night and came to the conclusion that thanks didn’t matter. What mattered, at the end of the day, was that they were helping people and they didn’t need thanks for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think I have a proper idea of how many chapters this'll be. The current final chapter count might change as the final episodes get released but so far I'm expecting this fic to end at 30 chapters. So, in order to finish this around the same time as the Wayward Guide finale, I'm gonna be altering the chapter upload a bit. Basically, I'll be uploading a chapter a day Monday-Friday. Assuming I did my math right, that should mean that the final chapter of this will drop the same day the final Wayward Guide Podcast episode drops.


	14. Requiem for a Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agnes has big dreams for Connor Creek. Chapter title unrelated to the movie/novel of the same name.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death (Mentioned), Werewolves (Mentioned), Politics

When Agnes was younger, she had never really thought about her future and what she wanted to do with her life. She knew her parents were training her to take over Connor Creek’s travel agency, but was that really something she wanted to do? If she was being honest, she had conceded long ago that her path was laid out for her. Plus, it wasn’t like being a travel agent was a terrible job. She certainly loved traveling to other cities through the years with her parents, even if they became more business oriented as she got older.

One of the many cities that held a special place in her heart was Los Angeles. She had gone a handful of times, but she could still remember that first time like it was yesterday. She had been a young child and her parents had taken her to the city for a business meeting. Coming into the city took her breath away. The sheer mass of people and stores and just interesting places was near overwhelming. She wanted to experience it all, but knew she was at the mercy of her parents’ schedule. That didn’t mean she didn’t try, though.

She could remember when her parents had taken her to one of the malls to go shopping. Agnes could barely see through the sea of legs that filled the building. The loud chatter was overwhelming and she remembered her mother taking her hand tightly as they meandered through the crowd. Agnes had held on just as tight, not wanting to get separated.

They had entered a few stores, most of which Agnes couldn’t remember the names of. She did, however, remember the last store her parents had taken her to before they returned to Connor Creek was a small toy store tucked in the back of the large mall. Her eyes had widened when they entered and she was filled with pure awe from the rows and rows of vibrant stuffed animals. She had felt like she was going to burst from elation when her father had told her she could pick out any animal she wanted.

Agnes remembered walking through the rows, considering her options. It wasn’t long before her eyes landed on a grey tabby cat. She was instantly drawn to it, declaring that it was the one. Her father had pulled the toy off the tall shelf and handed it to her. She could remember how soft the stuffed animal had been when she first got it. Through the years the stuffed cat had gotten more and more worn from use, but Agnes never loved it any less.

She supposed that that first trip was what had really ignited her love of travel. Don’t get it wrong, Agnes loved Connor Creek, but the energy of the busy streets of the city was just something else. She had considered moving to Los Angeles but she just didn’t have the type of money to do so. So, she considered the next best thing: bringing Los Angeles to Connor Creek.

It was a difficult process increasing tourism in Connor Creek, given how small a town they were. It certainly didn’t help that they had basically no tourist attractions- and no, Agnes was not even going to consider advertising Barney’s ‘dinosaur egg.’ That essentially left one thing they could use to invigorate their small economy: the silver mines. With Miner Mole having recently branched into Connor Creek, it was looking to be a bright future for the small town. If only the town council would just agree to ease the mining regulations. Agnes couldn’t even begin to count the number of debates the council had had about the silver mines over the past year alone. 

Things were really starting to look up when Truman started running for town council, though. Agnes was starting to think that this town could really become something akin to Los Angeles with her on the council. That was, until Ryan suddenly died. Agnes couldn’t believe something like that could ever happen in Connor Creek. Not only was his death extremely sad, but it certainly didn’t bode well for tourism. 

Agnes knew that if they wanted any chance of coming back from this they would have to find who or whatever killed Ryan and quickly. She could only hope the investigation Artemis and Paul were conducting would be over after they caught the killer. The only real hope Agnes had of smoothing over this whole fiasco was in the hands of the podcasters, and that was quite a terrifying thought. Not that she didn’t believe in them, but they were outsiders. They didn’t know Connor Creek. Plus, she had only booked them a room in the Dead Canary for a week and that certainly wasn’t enough time to both solve and report a murder mystery.

Still, she did her best to stomp out the little seed of doubt that had rooted itself in her brain, wanting to believe in them. But as the days passed and more of her friends died, that little only grew larger. It wasn’t until the town meeting the night after the election that it just became too large to ignore.

Agnes had felt a little bad for telling Artemis off like she did, but none of this would have even happened in the first place if they hadn’t arrived in town. And even if it had, at least it wouldn’t have been broadcasted to the whole world. That line of thought, however, was quickly brushed aside as Barney stumbled into town hall, clinging to life and begging for his egg to be preserved.

The ensuing couple minutes after his death was pure chaos, until Truman entered. Agnes’s initial gut reaction was relief as she took control of the situation. That was, until she started actually thinking about it. Truman was a member of town council now, so why hadn’t she shown up for the meeting earlier? Dozens of questions flew through her head and she was finding it hard to concentrate on what was even happening around her. Twice the council had called a vote and twice Agnes didn’t know what it was about. She was glad that Aubrey had pulled her aside afterwards and summarized everything, else she likely would have stayed out late working past the curfew.

That night, Agnes was sitting on her bed, replaying the events of that evening’s meeting over and over in her head. While she had initially supported Truman, her proposals just didn’t sit right with her. Well, Agnes supposed the curfew made sense, but a Werewolf Hunting Task Force? That was just insane, right? If she was being honest, Agnes wasn’t entirely convinced on the whole werewolves existing thing in the first place. Sure, all signs pointed towards it being true, but was it really? And even if it were, she just couldn’t imagine any of the good people of Connor Creek ever killing anyone. Plus, even if Artemis and Paul were benefiting from the killings, she knew it couldn’t have been them.

Agnes turned to the stuffed cat she had gotten in Los Angeles that was sitting by her bedside. She picked up the toy and flopped back onto the bed, giving the soft plush a squeeze. 

“Oh, Ms. Kitty, what am I going to do?”

She really didn’t want to even consider the possibility of anyone truly being capable of murder, but it was really starting to look like perhaps she shouldn’t have been so trusting of Truman. But what else was she supposed to do? Agnes knew the only real chance she had of bridging the gap between Connor Creek and the outside world was through the silver mines. And sure the motion to ease mining restrictions had passed, but at what cost? And now… Now things were getting complicated and messy and Agnes wasn’t even sure what to believe anymore. She was beginning to think that maybe… maybe Connor Creek just wasn’t meant to be seen by the outside world.


	15. Requiem for the Servant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Helen takes her job very seriously, but even she has her limits.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Werewolves, Blood, Blood and Injury

Helen took her job as Connor Creek’s sole civil servant very seriously. She had eyes like a hawk and would bring down the hammer of civil justice quicker than one could say ‘Good enough!’ She often went through whole ticket books in a matter of months, clocking in dozens of violations a week. In all honesty, most of her tickets were complete bullshit, but no one actually bothered to actually contest any of them so Helen figured that she might as well continue- for the sake of the town, of course. 

There was actually a short time that she had considered easing up on the violations a bit, but given how her tickets brought in twenty percent of the town council budget she was quick to reconsider. She was genuinely surprised that no one called her out for any of her made up violations. Obviously people would groan and complain, but they paid the fines nonetheless. Helen supposed it was because she never listed the fine as more than five dollars for the made-up violations. Still, she knew that those little dollars added up. Plus, she did have a quota she had to fill.

Of the residents of Connor Creek, Dr. Henry, Jeremiah, and Barney were certainly the most ticketed people. Helen felt a little bad fining an alcoholic, but at the same time she figured she was helping him in a roundabout way. She felt no remorse for ticketing Jeremiah and Barney, however. Honestly, Helen figured she was doing everyone a favor with all the ‘Noise Complaint’ tickets. Of course, no one actually called in a noise complaint, but she knew how annoying all the preaching and advertising was.

Helen knew Silas Torsen was going to be trouble as soon as he stepped foot into town. She was tempted to ticket him right then and there for some bullshit reason, but held off, figuring it wasn’t a good idea to piss off the person who would be overseeing the mining operations of Connor Creek. Plus, that city slicker would probably contest it anyways.

She didn’t actually see Silas around town much at all both to her relief and disappointment. While Helen wanted to see that man as little as possible, the fact that he was so reclusive only meant that he was harder to ticket.

Helen had had a similar feeling towards Truman who had moved to Connor Creek a year prior to Silas. Truman was certainly nicer than Silas, though, at least based on what she’d heard about him from Sybilus. Honestly, if Truman hadn’t been so pro-mining, Helen could have seen herself genuinely liking her. It really was a shame.

Helen couldn’t help but notice that there had been more outsiders coming to Connor Creek in the past couple years than she could ever recall in her memory. It was a little irksome how they all were trying to change their town. Though, she supposed the Schue-Horyns weren’t actively meddling, not yet at least.

She knew it would only be a matter of time before their newest visitors would start sticking their nose in business that didn’t concern them. Turned out she was right to think that as Helen had heard about Artemis’s outburst during the town meeting encouraging Madison to run in her brother’s stead later that day. While she was certainly relieved that Truman wouldn’t be sworn into town council with no contest, it just didn’t sit right with her that Artemis had been the one to instigate it.

That wasn’t even to mention all the snooping. Artemis and Paul were supposed to be investigating the election, not investigating the possible existence of werewolves. The worst thing about it all- murders aside, obviously- was probably the fact that Artemis had overheard them talking to Connor the night of the election. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the wisest decision to chase her through the woods, but it certainly got her to back off. Plus, it wasn’t like they were planning on hurting her; they weren’t  _ animals _ ! They simply just wanted to scare her a bit. Though, Helen would be the first to admit that they shouldn’t have chased her for so long. It had just been so long since they had a good chase and everyone had simply lost themselves in the moment. Perhaps if they had been more careful, then maybe the whole werewolf mania wouldn’t have even started in the first place. And maybe Odie Doty would still be alive.

Finding Odie Doty dead early the next morning after the chase was one of the most jarring experiences of Helen’s life. She had been on her regular patrol route when the sharp scent of blood flooded her senses. Helen instantly felt dread. She knew that nothing good could come from fresh blood in the woods; especially if it was so close to town.

The first thing she saw was Odie’s bag. Despite it being filled with packages and letters it seemed as if it were simply gently placed. Then it was his hat laying on the ground, discarded. After, was his body. Odie’s body was honestly one of the most horrific things she’d seen. Helen had to look away, just barely keeping her breakfast down.

This was bad.

Helen had composed herself as best as she could, knowing that showing any emotion would only result in panic, and no one needed that when there was an election to focus on. She had pulled Rita aside, knowing she could properly determine the cause of death. It certainly looked like a wolf attack, but if it was, it wasn’t any of theirs’ and Odie’s death confirmed that. As it turned out, he, like the others, had been killed by a wolf, or at least someone who knew how to make very convincing claw marks. So now there was either a rogue wolf in Connor Creek, or someone who was vaguely aware of their existence. Either way, things were looking  _ bad _ .

Helen didn’t think anything could have been worse than her friends dying one by one and the possibility of the Connor wolves’ secret being let out, but then Truman entered the scene. Honestly, her proposal for a curfew had made sense. But a wolf hunt? Helen just couldn’t support that; she  _ refused _ to support it. She didn’t even care that it was her job to serve the town. Honestly, who gave a fuck if she lost her job at that point; she wasn’t going to be a part of the problem that was literally planning to kill her and her people!

No, Helen had a better idea… Why side with the townsfolk who so clearly wanted her and her people dead despite how she’d faithfully served them for years, when she could solve the problem for them? Of course, she knew she and the other Connor wolves couldn’t do it themselves, not if they wanted to survive. That was why she had proposed letting Artemis and Paul in on their secret- off the record, of course. Let the reporters do the work in sussing out the real killer, while the rest of them laid low. That was the only way Helen could see this all working out for the Connor wolves. She just hoped that Artemis and Paul would listen.


	16. Requiem for Hardship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Irons family has had to go through a lot. But now things are starting to look up for them... for now.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Werewolves (Mentioned), Politics, Poverty

Connor Creek was dependent on the silver mines to invigorate its small economy. This was something the Irons family knew all too well. As miners, they understood that in order for their economy to flourish, they’d need to utilize the mines. Except the town council had been stuck in a grid-lock for ages on easing regulations and the Irons family, with their income being dependent on the mining operations, were left out to dry, despite Cliff’s best attempts at convincing the other members of town council.

He wasn’t asking for much, really. Just a little more mining to allow his family to survive and invigorate the local economy. Maybe use the silver to make more than those dinky keychains. Why did they even need keychains if their town had basically no tourism? Honestly, the town’s economy was far past rock bottom, but the other members of town council were just too ignorant to see it.

It had gotten so bad for the Irons that they were forced to sell their heirloom tools. They didn’t even get a decent price for them either, which was a load of bullshit. To make matters worse, their own daughter had to leave school to get a job to support the family, something Cliff and Rocky weren’t planning on doing until at least another year. Of course, her job didn’t exactly work out. Who knew that puppets could be so scary?

Things for the Irons had really hit an all-time low, that was until Miner Mole came into town. Cliff had been at home listening to the local radio, attempting to drown his sorrows with whatever was on- which was Barney’s daily talk show. Rocky and Jewel were in a separate room, working on some schoolwork when an unfamiliar ad began to play. It was for some company called ‘Miner Mole’ and Cliff was instantly intrigued. He listened intently as the ad played, getting more and more excited as it continued.

By the time the ad ended, Cliff was filled with a new sense of hope for his family. He knew that Rocky hated when he interrupted study time but he couldn’t help himself as he barged into the room to tell them the news. While Rocky and Jewel had been irked at the interruption, they couldn’t help but admit that it was certainly the most hopeful they’d been in months.

The next town council meeting was certainly… eventful. Cliff had spent the month leading up to it drafting an ordinance to lift the child labor restrictions, which ended up being approved. Unbeknownst to the Irons, the reason it was approved in the first place was because Cliff had been making such a big deal about his family being left out to dry that the other council members simply allowed the motion to pass knowing they needed all the help they could get. The Irons had taken the ordinance passing as a sign that things were really starting to look up for them. 

True to his word, Silas had hosted a job fair at the meeting, though not many people actually seemed interested in applying. The Irons didn’t see it as strange, instead taking the lack of other applicants as a good sign that they’d be hired.

Silas had been intrigued when the family approached him, and even a little amused when Cliff and Rocky near instantly began to gush about the potential opportunity. They even started a pitch for why they would be the perfect fit for Miner Mole. Turned out it was quite unnecessary as Silas had already decided that they were just the schmucks he needed on his side and decided to hire the whole family on the spot. So, with a handshake for each member- and Jewel claiming she was never going to wash her hand again afterwards- the Irons’ future was looking bright.

The first month after getting hired by Silas was quite an… adjustment. The Irons were miners, not receptionists, afterall. Which wasn’t to say they couldn’t do the job of one, but it took a bit of learning their way around before they really got the hang of things. Of course, Jewel was still learning her way around, even a year later.

That first year working for Miner Mole was definitely the happiest the Irons’ had been in a long while. For once they didn’t have to go a day, worrying whether they’d have enough money to put food on their table. They didn’t have to worry about juggling multiple jobs at once for every spare cent. They could finally stop surviving and just  _ live _ .

The Irons didn’t think things could get much better for them. That was, until the election. Cliff had been quite shocked and even a little annoyed that Madison had decided to run last-minute, but he had a feeling that things would work out in the end, and he was right. He had barely contained his shout of joy when Aubrey announced that Truman had won, instead he just sat there grinning. And then, Truman did something truly amazing. Right then and there, she had called for a vote to ease the mining regulations.

Cliff’s hand was absolutely one of the first ones to be raised as Sybilus called the vote. Him, along with Agnes, Riley, and the newly appointed Truman were just enough for the vote to pass. Rocky and Jewel- who was still wearing that fake moustache- had instantly cheered as the vote passed. Now that the Miner Mole’s drilling could finally begin, that would only mean more work for the Irons, and more work meant more money to support their family.

Yep, things were really starting to look up for the Irons family. At least, until a few hours later when the werewolf mania set in. Cliff’s near instant reaction to hearing about the werewolves was a mix of fear and fierce protectiveness for his family. Rocky was feeling very similarly and Jewel… Jewel was frightened but it was more because her parents were also frightened. They kept going on about not knowing who the wolves would attack next; certainly a terrifying thought for the girl.

The Irons had wasted no time in creating picket signs and making their way over to the Dead Canary to protest the wolves, in the hopes that their open disdain would be enough to drive them out. Jewel, who was honestly still mostly just going along with her parents, was very proud of her sign, even if she did need a little help from her mom with the spelling. 

Cliff and Rocky, however, were quick to realize the severity of the situation, especially when it came to their source of income. They knew that if the sheriff were to call for a lockdown that it could very well send them into economic despair once again, and that was something the Irons never wanted to experience again. No, what they needed to do was drive the wolves out before it came to that. Because if no one else in Connor Creek was going to help when they were in economic crisis, then they certainly weren’t going to help in the face of a werewolf threat. The Irons were truly on their own, but at least they were on their own together and they’ll be damned if they let anyone or anything tear their family apart.


	17. Requiem for the Obsessed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aubrey Dockweiler didn't believe in werewolves. Except that he did.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death (Mentioned), Werewolves, Angst, Sleep Deprivation, Mental Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew this chapter was gonna be one of the longer ones, but I didn't expect it to get this long haha... whoops.

Aubrey Dockweiler didn’t believe in werewolves. Or did he? He certainly wanted to, but that kind of thinking tended to make him less credible as Connor Creek’s historian. Still, he couldn’t help himself but to talk about his beliefs- or lack thereof- whenever it was brought up.

His flip-floppity nature on the subject tended to confuse many people in town to the point where they did their best to outright avoid talking about Connor Creek’s history. At least, they avoided it when they were around Aubrey. This, understandably, saddened the town historian as he loved nothing more than to talk about his beloved town. But he knew to keep quiet when his voice wasn’t wanted… usually.

He supposed his great-grandfather being a known peddler of hooey was a blessing in disguise. While Aubrey was often compared to dear old Daedalus Dockweiler, he also knew when to use his great-grandfather’s reputation to his advantage. This being often used in denying his actual beliefs by steering their attention towards someone much crazier than himself. Not that Aubrey would call himself crazy, of course. He was simply just… more open to the possibility of the existence of the supernatural. Yes, that was it.

Despite his great-grandfather’s eccentricities, Aubrey had always found his stories to be quite fascinating to listen to. Having come from a family of historians, there were countless stories that he had been told as a child; some true and some not. The ones that were true had always intrigued him from an academic standpoint, but the ones that were not… well, they intrigued him in a slightly different way. Those stories of ghosts, and goblins, and, yes, werewolves sparked a flame within him, as it had with his father and his father before him.

Aubrey couldn’t remember the exact story that had lit the fire within, what with how many he had read in his life, but through the years it had steadily grown from a small ember into a flame. Most people he knew had humored him for a time, but they were growing quite tired of his increasingly maddening stories. Aubrey knew they were just stories, he did, really. It was just that he wanted so badly for them to not be, wanted so badly for something to come and whisk him away into a world for the less mundane.

He had always loved the idea of traveling and exploring, but it was a whole nother thing to go out and actually do it. If he was being honest with himself, Aubrey envied Agnes. More specifically, he envied her adventurous spirit and how she could simply make the decision to travel someplace and follow through. Sure, Aubrey could plan a trip, but he could never actually get himself to  _ go _ . Still, he supposed that living vicariously through Agnes’s own travels was just as good. Plus, wasn’t a good book just as good if not better than actual travelling? It was certainly cheaper, that was for sure.

Despite his reluctance to physically travel, Aubrey still loved learning about new places and taking in the stories that had been told. Even if he weren’t being guided into the family historian business, Aubrey was sure he would have chosen it as his career. The stories a town told could really bring to light the deeper intricacies of the people who lived there. And, due to Connor Creek’s silver mines, their stories tended to gravitate towards werewolves.

Aubrey wasn’t sure exactly why, but there was just something about werewolves that intrigued him much more than other monsters. Perhaps it was because of the torn nature of the beast itself; the struggle for humanity. See, most other monsters were simply that: monsters. They wouldn’t ever truly experience the life of a human, even if they were one originally. Werewolves, however, they were different. They had the chance to live a normal life, only having to worry about their affliction once a month. It was an interesting dynamic and Aubrey often found himself thinking about it late into the night.

Now, that wasn’t to say that he  _ actually _ believed in werewolves… at least, not in Connor Creek. And it’s not because he went around one time when he was younger trying to trick people into touching a silver spoon, okay? It definitely wasn’t because of that. No, he knew there weren’t werewolves in Connor Creek because Aubrey was the town’s historian. That meant he knew the history of the town, but not only that, he knew the history of the people who lived in the town. If there  _ had _ been any werewolves in Connor Creek he surely would have known about it by now… right?

Though, he did suppose those missing pages in his great-grandfather’s were quite strange. But then again the rest of the book was quite ruined as well. Honestly, Aubrey tried his best to avoid touching the book altogether because who knew where those stains in the book had come from anyways.

There was a time when he was a little braver and had attempted to decipher the worn pages of the book himself, but there simply wasn’t much information he could gather. And the information he could make out were things he’d already learned from his father, likely told to him by his father. So Aubrey simply set aside the book, slowly burying it under a mountain of pages and maps through the years. And, with the book, he buried his hopes of werewolves. At least that was until the day the Schue-Horyns came into town.

Aubrey had honestly almost forgotten about the book until it had somehow made its way into his pile of books that he had gathered for Artemis and Paul. Seeing the book again brought back a wave of memories, and frustration, and longing. But as quickly as the conflicting feelings had filled him, he was quick to play it off, falling back into his habit of calling his great-grandfather full of hooey. 

However, as he gazed upon the book, he couldn’t help but feel that little spark of hope and wonder light itself within him again. He wasn’t sure why he had told the twins about the werewolves, but it certainly wasn’t a good look on his professionalism if they thought he actually believed anything that his great-grandfather may have written about. Plus, Aubrey knew first hand the kind of reaction people had when he tried to talk about werewolves. So, he did his best to defend his case both on why the werewolves could and couldn’t exist. It was almost as if he were trying to convince himself that werewolves weren’t real. Though as he babbled on, he could tell he was just digging himself a hole and by the time he had gathered his senses enough to tell them to leave, that hole had become a pit.

When the Schue-Horyns finally left his home, Aubrey couldn’t help but find himself ruminating about the existence of werewolves. It had been years since he’d last thought of them, but, looking at his great-grandfather’s book, he just couldn’t help but feel like there was something important about it. He could feel the little itch of his werewolf obsession at the back of his mind, urging him to delve into the topic once more. But Aubrey knew it wouldn’t do him any good to research it now. So, instead, he took the book and set it aside, just out of sight and headed for bed. 

Of course, Aubrey’s mind was more focused on werewolves than it was on getting a good night’s sleep. Not that that was anything too out of the ordinary for him. He often found himself lying awake at night, thoughts plagued with fantasies of monsters, but it had been a long while since it was solely about werewolves. He supposed that the recent mauling certainly didn’t help his imagination either.

Waking up the next morning, Aubrey knew he was screwed. While he did eventually manage to get some sleep, he found that not even in his dreams was he safe from his werewolf obsession. He had never been more thankful for his lack of friends than he did that day, because he knew if he didn’t get a handle on his thoughts, he wouldn’t have been able to talk about anything else. And he did not need to be going on about werewolves when there were much more pressing matters to focus on, such as the recent murder of Ryan Reynolds.

Aubrey was used to being alone, so it wasn’t hard for him to lock himself in his home and simply focus on not thinking about werewolves, which, yes, he knew was a backwards way of thinking. It was also something that he knew didn’t work, as he had tried it about a dozen times in the past. But it wasn’t like there was much else he could do. If he tried to go outside, there would certainly be no way he wasn’t going to blab about werewolves to just about everyone he saw. No, he needed to get a handle on his thoughts and with the town council meeting the next day, he needed to do it soon.

Despite the many, many,  _ many _ hours of attempts to clear his mind, Aubrey found that he just couldn’t stop himself from slipping up and thinking about werewolves. And, by the end of the day, he had made little to no progress reining it in. Though, he supposed on the bright side it wasn’t getting worse either. Not yet at least. Similarly to the night before, Aubrey found himself lying awake in bed, unable to sleep. Somehow, this night was worse than the last, having not drifted off until the early rays of the sun began to shine onto Connor Creek.

As much as Aubrey would have loved to have pressed snooze on his alarm and catch up on sleep- even if his dreams were still filled with werewolves- he knew he had an obligation to the town council. So, with a yawn, he forced himself out of bed for the long day ahead of him.

During the town council meeting itself, Aubrey could feel himself losing focus. Given how he’d only managed to get a combined three or four hours of sleep the past few nights, it made sense that he was utterly exhausted. He could only hope that in his tired state he wouldn’t do or say anything he’d regret later. Still, just to be safe Aubrey had made the decision to take a page from Crispin’s book as soon as he left his home, deciding that he wouldn’t speak a word that day unless it was absolutely necessary. It didn’t prove to be too hard, surprisingly. But maybe that was just because he was too tired to even form proper words, finding himself simply mumbling noises of affirmation whenever Agnes or Cliff addressed him while they waited for the meeting to start.

Honestly, Aubrey could practically feel himself falling asleep in his seat, with the only time he felt even remotely awake was when the Mayor had come on stage to accept their token of appreciation. Though that feeling didn’t last long as he soon felt himself drifting off again, despite his attempts to stay awake. The final nail in the coffin, however, was when Truman walked on stage and started her speech. He could barely get through the first few sentences before he was out like a light. It wasn’t until the other members of town council began clapping that he woke with a start, temporarily forgetting where he was.

Right, right, he was in town hall, at a council meeting. And if people were applauding that must mean that Truman was done talking, right? Right.

Despite the quick power nap, Aubrey was still half asleep by the time he was finally able to leave. He could honestly barely remember what even happened at the meeting. He was pretty sure that Madison had decided to run in her brother’s stead, or something, so the election was back on. Which was just…  _ wonderful _ for the already sleep deprived man. He supposed that on the upside, he hadn’t even thought about werewolves once since the meeting… Until he just thought about the fact that he didn’t think about werewolves, and now he was thinking about werewolves again.

Aubrey was screwed. He was so screwed. It was less than an hour before the election festivities began and he was  _ still _ thinking about werewolves. Currently, he was hiding in the men’s bathroom, anxiously pacing back and forth as he attempted to formulate any sort of plan to keep himself from blurting out his werewolf hooey. But there just wasn’t anything coming to mind. Well, nothing of use anyways. He gripped the sides of the sink with shaking hands. Why did it have to be werewolves?

He was startled out of his thoughts by a sharp knock on the bathroom door.

“Just- Just a moment!” Aubrey shouted, just barely keeping himself together.

He gave the toilet a quick flush, despite not having used it, and rinsed his hands. For good measure he also splashed some water on his face before wiping it off. Just have to smile and focus, he thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and stepped out.

Aubrey wasn’t sure how he managed it, but he had somehow gotten through the election without blurting out the exact contents of his mind. Which, was definitely a good thing, what with the nature of the recent murders. He had even managed to quiet his thoughts enough for him to announce the winner of the election. It was certainly one of his most uplifting moments as of recent. Aubrey almost felt as if he could actually manage to get past the obsession that had clawed its way back into his life. That was, until the werewolf mania began.

The entire town was talking about werewolves now and ordinarily Aubrey would have been ecstatic by the news except they were talking about them like they were heartless monsters. It was as if they had forgotten that werewolves could be human too. So, once again, he was forced to keep his thoughts to himself, else face the consequences, which in this care were much more dire than usual.

Aubrey didn’t know why he couldn’t just get over the whole werewolf thing. He  _ knew _ that they couldn’t be real, knew their existence was nothing more than a fantasy. And yet he couldn’t stop himself from imagining the creatures roaming the streets, going about their day, only to turn into beasts come the night of the full moon.

He wondered what it was like to live that kind of life. Well, Aubrey supposed that depended on the specific lore. Would it be hard to be a werewolf? Would it hurt to transform or would it be freeing? He figured the pain could be worth it if- NO! No, he was  _ not _ going to continue that train of thought. Because if he did, then it wouldn’t be long before he was imagining himself among the wolves, running through the trees, and…  _ Fuck _ .

Aubrey was beginning to spiral and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep every little thought that was running through his head to himself. And, given how he was currently waiting for a meeting about the werewolf mania to start, it would spell bad news if he were to do so now. So, he did his best to keep to himself. That was until Cliff started ranting about the wolves and wanting them all gone from the town. Aubrey had to bite his tongue to keep himself from blindly defending the creatures. Because while he knew deep down that it wasn’t possible for all wolves to be bad, he couldn’t just go about defending them when it was so clear that they were likely the ones murdering their friends. That didn’t stop him from slipping up during the town council meeting by defending the wolves, even if it wasn’t a  _ direct _ defense. Well, for the most part.

He genuinely felt a little bad for Artemis after he once again deflected any accusation of his werewolf beliefs towards his great-grandfather’s hooey. But what else was he supposed to do? Agree with her, putting a target on his own back? Except, he did agree with her, for the most part.

Before his train of thought could continue further, his attention was brought to Barney who had run into the room screaming and covered in blood. Aubrey’s mind stopped. It was strange, but he couldn’t help but realize that that was the first time his head had truly been clear since the Schue-Horyns had come to town. That silence was short lived, however as his mind began to paint a picture of the werewolf that could have killed Barney. And, despite the horrid circumstances, Aubrey couldn’t help but think that it looked beautiful. 

And then, all hell broke loose around him.

There were screams, and shouting, and accusations being thrown all around, and Aubrey… Aubrey heard it all as if he were underwater. And he was standing. When had he gotten out of his chair? And he realized that he couldn’t breathe. He was suddenly gasping for air as collapsed back down into his seat, clutching his chest. Each breath felt like he was inhaling fire, and the tie around his neck was like a leash that just kept getting tighter, and tighter, and tighter. It was constricting his breath and he needed to get it off, he needed to be  _ free _ . And that’s when he felt the tears. They were running down his face leaving salty trails in their wake.

He was crying. But it wasn’t for Barney. He wished that it was, but Aubrey knew, deep down that it wasn’t. No, he was crying because he knew. He knew. He knew the werewolves weren’t real. And that’s what made it hurt so bad, because, as much as he had tried to deny it, he wanted nothing more than to become one of them.


	18. Requiem for the Fledglings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lesly could tell from the moment he hired Artemis and Paul Schue-Horyn that they were going to do great things.
> 
> Relevant Tags: N/A

Lesly Stone was the boss of the American Podcasting Network, everyone knew this. Everyone also knew, however, that he rarely ever actually acted like most bosses. He talked too casually, interacted with his employees too frequently, along with a myriad of other things. No, it was quite a wonder on how he even got his position in the first place. At least, that’s what most who didn’t work with him figured.

Despite his childish demeanor, Lesly knew exactly what he was doing. He had always had an eye for stories. Just from a single pitch he could tell if a story was going to sell or not. And it wasn’t just stories either. He could look at an employee and see the potential within them. It was honestly unsettling and led to more than a few strange interactions. However, Lesly’s intuition hadn’t been wrong, so far.

Lesly usually wasn’t one to pick favorites, but something about Artemis and Paul just spoke to him. Putting Artemis and Paul- two kids who had little to no actual experience in investigative journalism- in charge of Good Ol' American Living was admittedly one of Lesly’s best decisions, if he did say so himself. He could just see all the untapped potential in the twins, could see the hunger for the truth that begged to be fed- Artemis especially. There was really no argument that he had to hire the two. 

Of course, he wasn’t going to just allow them to host their own show quite yet. While he certainly could see their talent, it was rough at best. No, they needed to hone their skills. And, with him as a mentor and boss, Lesly had no doubt that it would only be a matter of time before they moved on to greater stories.

The first time Lesly had Artemis and Paul host a story on Good Ol' American Living was something he couldn’t forget, even if he wanted. The pride he had felt after listening to their first episode was overwhelming. Sure, even after being put on the writing team for the first year or two, their script was a bit rough, but it was a true gripping tale about… something. Okay, so Lesly didn’t exactly remember the story but what really mattered was the reception from the fans and they love, love, _loved_ the Schue-Horyns. And that was enough for him to have the Schue-Horyns permanently host the show instead.

Rebecca, the show’s previous host, was understandably not a fan of the development, but Lesly assured her that she would be reassigned to a job that better suited her. She had continued to protest until Lesly had promised her a raise in addition to the reassignment. It honestly surprised him how effectively it managed to get her to quit whining, but he wasn’t going to complain.

With Artemis and Paul now hosting Good Ol' American Living, the listenership grew considerably. Lesly could only imagine what the twins could do on an even more ambitious project. Which was why he was more than happy to allow another one of his employees to start the podcast The Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye. Of course, the podcast would have to actually make a decent enough splash to warrant a second season first, but he had high hopes that when it did, the Schue-Horyns could really take the show to new heights.

Thankfully, Lesly’s intuition was once again correct as the Wayward Guide podcast really took off in the first season thanks to the season’s host, but he knew it was time for someone else to take the reins. Spencer was certainly a good podcast host, but Lesly just had this gut feeling that the show was made for Artemis and Paul. So, he let the man down easy, and told him he was planning on reassigning over to Good Ol' American Living soon enough. And, now that the final episode of the season had dropped, it was time for his two favorites to really shine on pitch day.

Lesly couldn’t wait to hear what Artemis and Paul’s pitch was. So much so that he practically jumped out of his office as soon as Rebecca was gone to call the Schue-Horyns inside. He did his best keeping his anticipation under wraps as the two began their pitch. It was some idea about the boy scouts and a soapbox derby? That couldn’t be their _actual_ pitch, could it? It was such a horrendous idea that Lesly just had to go out and say it.

“I hate it.”

Artemis’s face lit up, “Right? It’s terrible that the Boy Scouts of America, this long standing, honored, wholesome-”

And that’s when Lesly realized that Artemis was being serious; she really thought that their pitch was a good story. He had so much hope for the twins, for the story they would pitch him, and this… this was just disappointing. But it was fine because Paul was there too and they were twins- fraternal, not identical- so Lesly could give them a second chance and, hopefully, they would have something better on hand.

As expected, they _did_ have another story up their sleeve. And from _the_ Ryan Reynolds of all people. Gosh, Lesly could barely believe his two favorite employees had really gotten a story from one of his favorite actors! And not just a story, but one of the most interesting ones he’d heard in a good while. Lesly could practically imagine it now. The corruption, the politics. Big business, little business, and sticking it to the man! God, if he was this excited by just the mere concept of it all, then he couldn’t wait to send the Schue-Horyns out to actually investigate it.

He knew that the Schue-Horyns had it in them all along and, looking at the two young adults, there was no doubt in Lesly’s mind that they were going to go places. Hell, he could genuinely see them running the company one day, if that was something they wanted to do. And Lesly, well, he couldn’t be prouder of Artemis and Paul.


	19. Requiem for a Podcaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I imagined that Rebecca used to be the host of Good Ol' American Living before the Schue-Horyns hosted it.
> 
> Relevant Tags: N/A

Rebecca had been working at the American Podcasting Network for years, a few years before the Schue-Horyns were hired even. As such, she held a good deal of respect within the office. Especially since her recent podcast, Good Ol’ American Living, was doing so well.

That was why it confused her a bit when Lesly had come to her that day the Schue-Horyns were hired and told her she’d be having new writers on her team. Of course, after working at APN for so long, she knew that Lesly’s intuition was uncanny, but looking at the two fresh-faced twenty-somethings, she just couldn’t help but think he may have been losing his touch. Still, who was she to deny the guy who was signing her paychecks?

Rebecca had put the twins on small jobs, mostly just checking for grammar mistakes and some minor fact-checking. Paul had seemed satisfied with the assignments, but Artemis… Rebecca could see that Artemis craved more than proof-reading scripts. That was all too clear in the tiny edits she made, thinking Rebecca didn’t notice. Most of the time she’d undo the changes, but there were occasions where she’d reluctantly keep them in, as, admittedly, they  _ were _ good edits.

She did eventually let the Schue-Horyns start investigating their own stories in addition to the proof-reading. Of course, that didn’t mean Rebecca was going to let their scripts air. It was mostly just to see what their quality of writing was like when they had nothing to work off. Plus, even she wasn’t so blind as to not see the talent and drive they possessed.

Their first scripts had been amateur level, which made sense as they didn’t exactly have a lot of prior experience in professional investigative journalism. Still, they managed to hold an air of professionalism to them and Rebecca could tell that with a little more experience, they could become something one day. She supposed that Lesly wasn’t as insane as he thought, hiring the two.

Rebecca continued giving the Schue-Horyns some of their rejected story ideas to investigate as practice and, as the years went by, their writing improved dramatically. Eventually, she sent them out to investigate a real story, deeming them ready. Of course, it was going to be a simple one-shot special story that would be aired between seasons. It was going to be a sweet and simple test for their actual performative abilities, because while Rebecca knew they could write, that didn’t mean they could report. 

As it turned out, the listeners loved Artemis and Paul. They had an air to them that made them appear much more experienced than they really were. It was because of this fan reaction that Rebecca decided to have them continue investigating the smaller between season stories. And, eventually, it grew to the point where their stories were actually getting  _ more _ streams than the actual seasons.

When Rebecca had learned of this, months later, she was filled with a sense of dread. Of course she was proud of the Schue-Horyns, but at the same time she knew Lesly and knew that the twins’ success could only mean she’d be in danger of being replaced. And she was right.

Once she had finished recording the final episode of the season for Good Ol’ American Living, she was called into Lesly’s office. Rebecca could practically taste the reassignment- or perhaps worse, firing- as she walked down the halls of APN. It almost felt like she were headed to her own execution. And she knew it wasn’t something she could avoid.

As Rebecca expected, Lesly had called her in to reassign her for an undetermined amount of time and not only that, but he was having Artemis and Paul replace her as host. She hated the idea of not working on Good Ol’ American Living. It was practically her baby, given how she was the one who conceived the idea in the first place. She had poured her heart and soul into the podcast and now it was going to be taken from her just because a pair of new-hires were receiving better fan reception. It just wasn’t fair.

Of course, Rebecca had told Lesly as such, but he wasn’t having it. She was tempted to quit right then and there, but that was before Lesly had assured her that when a podcast that was “more suited for her strengths” came along, she would be the one to host it. Plus, he did give her a raise, so it she supposed it wasn’t  _ that _ bad. Though she still wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about being reassigned as his personal assistant.

Rebecca hated to admit it, but Artemis and Paul really were good hosts, better than she ever was on Good Ol’ American Living, that’s for sure. But she also knew that Artemis’s ambitions wouldn’t keep her in that podcast for long. And that’s when she figured that Lesly would let her host it again. At least, before she overheard him talking to himself in his office about not being able to wait for his two favorites to take over The Wayward Guide. She could feel a pang of hurt for Spencer, who was the current host of the podcast. Rebecca had no doubt that Artemis and Paul would take over the podcast. Even if Lesly wasn’t playing favorites, she knew the Schue-Horyns had enough skill to take on the challenge of hosting the Wayward Guide.

Still she couldn’t help but wonder where Spencer would go once they took over, There would be no way Lesly would outright fire him; Lesly hated firing anyone. Hell, he’d kept  _ her _ around for years despite being overpaid for doing basically nothing for the company. Then it hit her, she could just ask him. He didn’t have any other meetings before the Schue-Horyns so Rebecca could definitely ask then. And that’s what she did.

When Rebecca had entered his office, she figured she would butter him up a bit before asking, plus if she was lucky then there was a possibility that she could get her old position back. However, her hopes were quickly dashed as she learned that Spencer would be reassigned as the host of Good Ol’ American Living when- not if,  _ when _ \- Artemis and Paul took over the Wayward Guide. Meanwhile, she would continue as Lesly’s personal assistant for however long he said.

Why? It wasn’t fair. Good Ol’ American Living was  _ her _ podcast! Rebecca was the one who conceived the idea, so why didn’t Lesly think she was good enough to host it?

Lesly could see her devastation clear as day and sighed, “Rebecca, look, you’re a  _ great _ host, but just not for Good Ol’ American Living. Your talents are better put elsewhere.”

“Like getting your coffee?” she shot back.

He didn’t seem to register the tone though as he smiled. “Exactly! Now, be a great assistant and get me a cup, please?”

Rebecca was so tempted to explode at him, but managed to hold it in as she turned and hurried out of his office as Lesly called for the next pitch meeting. She could feel tears beginning to stream down her face, no doubt ruining her makeup as she turned the corner to get her boss his requested cup of coffee.

However, as if fate couldn’t bite her in the ass further, Paul, who was waiting with his sister outside, decided to speak up. 

“Hey, Rebecca how’d it go in there?”

She stopped in her tracks before turning to him with a shaky breath, tears streaming down her face. Looking at the Schue-Horyns, she was filled with a deep anger, knowing they had taken everything from her. And, looking at them now, it was clear they didn’t even know that they did. It really just wasn’t fair.


	20. Requiem for the Renowned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn has dedicated his life to the culinary world, but how did he come to work at the Dead Canary in the first place?
> 
> Relevant Tags: Long-Distance Friendship

Quinn Casidy’s love of food began as a small child. He had always loved watching his mother in the kitchen. Well, it was more like he loved smelling the food she was cooking. But he did eventually love to watch as well. Her skill with the knife was mesmerizing and even if she didn’t let him touch it until he was in high school, he always wanted to learn.

He remembered once asking his mother why she wasn’t a chef with the skill she had. Turned out she was, for a time. She used to work in a small restaurant for about a year, but found that the professional culinary world was just too fast-paced for her. While she had always loved food, she preferred to take her time with her meals, making the best she could without having to worry about customers complaining for how long it was taking, or god forbid walking out.

Quinn could understand what his mother was talking about. He watched a lot of cooking shows and he could see the stress on the chefs as they attempted to make a meal in such a short time, but rather than deter him from the culinary world, it only made him strive to become better. Quinn loved food, and he loved it when people loved his food. If he was able to get to a level of skill where he could make quality meals that people loved then he’d consider his life complete. Though becoming a world-renowned chef would also be good.

While his mother didn’t understand why he wanted to pursue a career in the culinary world, she was supportive nonetheless, doing her best to get her child through school to follow his dreams. Quinn was never poor, but he wasn’t exactly the most well-off either. This meant that going to culinary school was quite an intimidating decision. He knew his mother would do her best to help him through it financially, but even then he knew he had to pull his weight as well.

He had decided to take a gap year to save up some funds to go to school in Los Angeles. During that time, he managed to find work at the Dead Canary. It was there that he met Desmond Brewer. Granted, he had seen the man around town before, but he was always more closed off, choosing to keep his distance. Of course, working in the same building made it hard for the man to avoid him, even if Quinn was in the kitchen most of the time.

Quinn had initially tried to keep out of the barkeep-in-training’s way and only interacting with Desmond when he needed to. But there was only so much he could do about his pent up frustrations for the food he was being paid to make. It was just all so… mundane. Quinn had tried, multiple times, to get Desmond’s father- who was the current owner of the Dead Canary- to let him spice things up a little, but the man never budged. Eventually it got to be enough and Quinn found himself grumbling about the lack of creative options on the menu- never around the man himself, of course. Or his son.

However, it appeared that Quinn’s complaints weren’t as well-contained as he had assumed. Unbeknownst to him, Desmond had been silently listening to his complaints for a long time. When Quinn eventually found out about it, he was terrified. Was he going to lose his job? Or perhaps worse, was he going to get reassigned? His head had been filled with dozens of possible jobs he could have been reassigned to, each one worse than the last. Quinn had begun to beg Desmond to not tell his father, to not fire him, and that he would stop the complaints. He was so caught up in his begging that he hadn’t realized that Desmond had started to laugh. It hadn’t occurred to Quinn before, but he had never actually heard Desmond laugh before.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a smirk. “I won’t tell the old man.”

Quinn wasn’t quite sure what to say to that, so he just smiled. “Thank you.”

Desmond looked at the chef, as if considering him. “Can you make me something?”

Ah, so that’s why he was in the kitchen. Still, he wasn’t going to complain since Desmond  _ was _ keeping his complaints to himself. “What can I get you?”

“Um, how about some fig-let mig-none? That’s what you keep talking about, right?”

It took a second for Quinn to figure out what Desmond had been trying to pronounce. “Filet mignon? That’s… not on the menu.”

Desmond shrugged, “So?”

“Won’t your dad get mad for us wasting his ingredients?”

“It’s fine, I’ll pay for it.”

Quinn bit his lip, considering it. “Alright, but only if I can pair it with a green bean almondine.”

Desmond blinked, clearly not knowing what that was. “Uh, okay, that’s fine.”

Quinn’s smile beamed as he began to cook Desmond’s meal. The red-head watched on from the side as the chef worked. While Desmond was never really one for cooking, he couldn’t help but admire Quinn’s work. He just looked so natural in the kitchen, as if he were born to cook.

It wasn’t long before his order was complete and Quinn placed a plate before him. He watched eagerly as Desmond tentatively picked up the fork and knife. Slowly, he cut off a piece of the meat and took a bite. Quinn could see his eyes widen as he chewed. 

“Damn, Quinn. This is delicious.”

The two got closer as Quinn continued working at the Dead Canary, saving up for school. It soon became a weekly tradition to sneak in a meal together. Often Desmond didn’t know of any fancy meals that he knew Quinn would appreciate cooking, so he ended up defaulting to a ‘surprise me’ order.

Those days with Desmond were Quinn’s favorite. He enjoyed cooking for his friend and Desmond was a good listener. However, as his gap year came to a close, Quinn found that he had saved enough money to start school next fall. He had mentioned the idea of culinary school to Desmond a few times now, and each time his friend seemed to get a little closed off. Quinn supposed it was understandable since going to school would mean he’d have to stop working at the Dead Canary and move to Los Angeles. So, when telling Desmond, Quinn had made sure to promise that he would keep in touch while he was at school and he held true to that promise, calling and writing to him about once a week.

As part of his education, Quinn was interning at an actual restaurant. Of the list he had been given the one that stood out to him was a restaurant in France. He didn’t have to pick one in France specifically, but he had always been enamored by the culture and figured he may as well. Plus, if he were lucky then he might have even been hired for real. Going to France meant he wouldn’t be able to continue talking with Desmond as much, however. Plus, working a restaurant job would also take up a good chunk of his time. Still, Quinn did his best to keep in touch with his friend, but as the weeks passed he found himself having less and less time to reply to Desmond’s letters.

Quinn had never understood why his mother had abandoned her career as a chef, not until he started working at the restaurant. The work was  _ exhausting _ . While he prided himself on the quality of his food, he found that the longer he stayed in that environment, the less he loved actually cooking.

In the late hours of the night, Quinn would find himself reminiscing his time at the Dead Canary. He missed the familiarity of the small kitchen, and of how comfortable it was to work with Desmond. Desmond. Quinn really should reply to his latest letter. But he was just  _ so _ tired. He’d get to it in the morning, he promised himself, falling into a restless sleep.

His remaining time in France was a blur. Quinn could barely remember any of the meals he had made by the end of it and he was honestly just looking forward to finishing his last semester of school. One of the first things he did when he got back to California was call up Desmond. While Quinn had been unable to respond to his last letter, he figured he may as well make it up to him with a phone call.

It was his father that had picked up. It made sense, since he owned the Dead Canary just yet, but it still surprised Quinn. He had asked to talk to his friend but Mr. Brewer simply said his son was busy and hung up on him. Quinn didn’t try to call again. Over his final semester, the chef had attempted to contact Desmond a handful more times, only being successful once.

Quinn could barely contain his happiness when Desmond had been the one to pick up the phone. As it turned out, Desmond had recently taken over the family business. The two didn’t spend too long talking, however, as Desmond had a lot of work to do, but they still made time to properly catch up. Even after all the time they hadn’t spoken, it just felt so natural to talk to him. That was, until Quinn mentioned getting a job offer from the restaurant he had interned at in France. Desmond had gone quiet then before saying he had to go. He hung up on Quinn before he could get out a word.

He had tried to talk to him again a few more times, but Desmond had gotten cagey. It certainly didn’t help that whenever Quinn mentioned anything about school or France that Desmond would make up some excuse before hanging up on him. It infuriated Quinn to no end. If only he could just explain…

It was a few days after his graduation that he decided to head back to Connor Creek. If Desmond wasn’t going to talk to him on the phone, then that just meant he’d have to do it in person. He was surprised to find that the Dead Canary had recently fired their last chef- something to do with smuggling a rat into the kitchen- and were currently looking for a new one. Quinn figured it was fate and headed to the Dead Canary. Walking inside, he was unsurprised to find it empty. He figured that not many people would be around when they didn’t even have a chef to make food anymore. 

The bar looked just as he remembered it, if a little cleaner. Quinn, however, was quickly pulled out of his thoughts as the door to the kitchen opened.

Despite having seen Desmond a year ago, Quinn couldn’t help but notice how much he both had and hadn’t changed. Desmond, who was wiping his hands with a towel, stopped in his tracks as he met Quinn’s eyes. Slowly, he made his way over.

“Quinn? I thought you’d be in France.”

The chef rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Desmond’s piercing gaze. “Yeah, about that… As it turns out, France isn’t  _ that _ great.” 

Desmond scoffed, “Really? You seemed to like it enough to stop talking to me.”

He winced, knowing full well that Desmond was right. “I’m sorry. I know, I messed up. I should have tried harder to keep in touch.” 

“Yeah, you should have.” Desmond sighed, placing a hand on his hip, “What are you doing here, Quinn?”

He took a deep breath, “When I was interning in France I learned that I don’t really like working in a big fancy restaurant… I’m, uh, I’m more comfortable…  _ here _ … I’m sorry it took going all the way to France to learn that.”

Quinn had never been very good at reading Desmond’s stoic expression. So he was understandably nervous as his friend stood there in silence, simply looking at him. After what felt like an eternity, Desmond finally spoke up.

“You want to work  _ here _ with me instead of in a fancy restaurant of your dreams?”

Quinn smiled sheepishly, “This  _ is _ the restaurant of my dreams. That is, if you’ll have me.”

Desmond’s stoic expression broke as he smirked and shook his head. “As if you even have to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, slight alteration to the chapter uploads. Since according to Paul in the newest podcast episode, the next podcast episode (9) is gonna be the last one. So, I'm gonna try and aim for this fic to end when the final episode of the show airs on December 15. To do this I'll be including Saturday in my upload schedule, and on the final day y'all will likely get a double chapter upload.


	21. Requiem for Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donny has been trying to find love for a long time, but maybe some people just weren't destined to find it.
> 
> Relevant Tag: Canonical Character Death (Mentioned)

Donny Meadows was a catch, and it was a true shame that no one in Connor Creek could see just how great he was. At least, that’s what he told himself. To be fair, he  _ was _ one of the few teenagers in the small town so statistically he was very likely to be a catch. Not only that but he was also the one with the most experience when it came to dating. Donny Meadows had dated- and kissed- just about every teenager in town, and yet he remained single.

He honestly couldn’t understand it. The seventeen year old was a great guy, not to mention kisser- at least in his own eyes- and yet  _ no one _ wanted to date him. It was absolutely absurd. And it’s not like the boy had much in the way of standards. As long as they had a good pair of lips, he would be happy.

But then his partner would always start asking questions. Questions like “What’s your favorite color?” And “What shows have you been watching lately?” And “Why are you crying? We’re literally just eating pasta!” Okay, that last one Donny wasn’t proud of. But in his defense it was a very hot plate of pasta! But, yeah, all that’s just to say that none of his relationships ever lasted more than a couple dates.

Well, there  _ was _ that one guy he had ended up going on three dates with. Donny could still remember his beautiful eyes, and his sweet laugh, and his charming smile. And damn if he wasn’t a good kisser too. In all honesty, the teenager could have seen himself spending his life with that boy. At least, before he and his family moved to Los Angeles. It truly was a sad day for Donny when he found out. And neither of them were willing to uphold a long distance relationship, at least not while what they had going on was still so fresh. 

Then there was Jewel. He had only gone on one date with her, but Donny had found that she was surprisingly fun to talk to. They never ended up kissing, and at the end of the night they both came to the conclusion that they were better off as just friends. And it wasn’t just because her parents scared him, okay? It definitely was not because of that. Besides, he figured that even if they had started a relationship he wouldn’t get to see her much given how she was always working. Honestly, Donny figured they did each other a favor by not dating in that regard.

So, that left Donny with no one in town that was willing to start a relationship with him. It was around this time that he started taking drastic measures to find love. Namely, consulting Prism. Donny wasn’t stupid; he knew that her business was a scam, but he had tried just about everything else already so he figured he may as well give it a shot.

His first consulting with her had gone about how he expected. She had pulled out her tarot cards and gave him some reading about how he would find love in time or whatever. Then she gave him a small jade and told him to put himself out there again, as if he hadn’t already nearly exhausted the dating pool in Connor Creek.

Still, he did his best to follow her advice and tried dating around again. There were certainly a few other teens he had attempted to date in the past that he could have potentially seen something happening with. Donny supposed that at the time he just hadn’t been mature enough. But now, as a seventeen year old, he was penalty mature, at least, when it came to relationships. He had been surprised that some of the previous people he had seen were willing to try again. And, even more surprising, was how much longer his relationship with them lasted. Perhaps Prism had been onto something with that whole jade thing. 

While his relationships appeared to have lasted longer than before, Donny still hadn’t been able to find anyone that truly understood him and his desires. So, he found himself back at Prism’s a handful of failed relationships later, looking for some more advice. While he still wasn’t sure about the whole tarot card readings, he found the jade to be a sort of comfort. He had made sure to get himself another stone after their second session after she gave him some more words of wisdom.

This pattern continued for multiple months. Each time he would come in and ask for more love advice and she would give him some words of wisdom before sending him off with a small jade. He would then date a few more of the teens in town before having to come back again. It wasn’t long before Donny quickly re-exhausted the dating pool in Connor Creek multiple times over. After about his third or so round of attempting to date the other teens, they began to just outright refuse to go on any kind of date with him. Even Jewel had started to distance herself from him. Though that might have just been because she’d been so swamped with work at Miner Mole lately.

Donny, desperate for love, had then begun to go over to Prism’s more often. She had been surprised when he first showed up earlier than he usually did in his dating cycle, but didn’t turn him away either. He had gone to her shop just about every day for a week, even walking in while she was having a meeting with those newcomers who were doing the story on the town. The last time he saw her, she seemed to have been acting a little off, but he didn’t think much of it. He supposed that he had been coming around quite a bit, and there was only so much she could advise him on. He had decided that he’d give her a bit of a break from him and not come in for at least another week.

But then, the night of his last appointment with her, Prism died. Donny had been devastated when he learned the news. No one else in the town understood what he was going through like she did. And no one else was as willing to help, either. The town had really lost a wonderful person that day. Prism was dead, and with her, died Donny’s hopes and dreams of finding love.


	22. Requiem for a Church

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremiah is living out his dream of being a pastor, if only he could get people to go to church.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know shit about church, but I don't think Jeremiah does either so it works out in the end.

Jeremiah Stillwater was Connor Creek’s only pastor. He was also the only person who would actually go to his church. If you could even call it a church. In reality, Connor Creek didn’t actually have a physical church so Jeremiah has had to get… creative with his service. Namely, he found a random empty field by the old green barn and claimed it as his church. 

Jeremiah spent most of his days wandering around town attempting to convince people to come to church. He had tried to make it more appealing by advertising daily service, but he was starting to regret doing so. He figured that it would help bring people in, but he should have known that advertising  _ more _ church wasn’t going to help his cause. Plus, Jeremiah had never been good at convincing people to come in the first place. 

Thus, his sermons often resulted in him lounging around in the dull hopes that someone would walk by and join. Not that anyone ever did. Jeremiah knew that there were  _ some _ religious people in Connor Creek, he just wasn’t exactly sure who. Surely they would want to come to church, though, right? Perhaps he just hadn’t been doing a good enough job of convincing people that going to church would be worth it. Or maybe they just didn’t want to attend church with  _ him _ . No, that couldn’t be it, could it?

He did suppose that he  _ could _ be a little desperate about people coming to church, but he just wanted people to learn about the good word, not to mention saving their souls. They couldn’t blame him for that, could they? Well, actually they could. But Jeremiah chose to believe they were simply… ignorant to the glory that was church. He certainly felt spiritually free after a sermon, and he simply wanted others to experience it as well. Of course, most of his sermons tended to devolve into simply lounging around as no one showed up.

Jeremiah supposed that having literally no communion wasn’t always that bad. It did mean that he had more time to just relax. Often, he would simply sit down in the field, put on some music, and try to read his bible. Try being the keyword. Honestly, the thing was so boring that Jeremiah never found himself getting further than the first dozen pages or so. But he sure did have those dozen pages down pat. He had tried skipping ahead a few times in the hopes that things would start to get interesting, but, sadly, they didn’t. 

Now, being the town pastor wasn’t Jeremiah’s only job. Hell, it was barely a job in the first place; more of a passionate hobby really. No, he mostly made money through his legal services. He supposed his parents forcing him to go to law school wasn’t a complete waste of time. Granted, he didn’t exactly enjoy his job, but it paid the bills so he couldn’t complain too much. Plus, he had good job security being Connor Creek’s only lawyer, even if he was rarely needed for legal issues with how small the town was. 

Recently, Jeremiah had found himself wondering why he was even still trying to get people to come to church. He didn’t have a building, he didn’t have a communion, hell, he was barely a legitimate pastor. All he did to get ordained was go to some website on the internet and fill out a form. Not only that but all his “sermons” were just random lyrics from songs he would listen to while he tried to read his damn bible. 

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but wonder why he was wasting his time trying to spread the holy word, especially when he clearly was nowhere near qualified to do so. Maybe his parents had been right and he should have just focused on law school. At least then he could have afforded to live somewhere better than the dinky little home he currently resided in.

Actually, now that he thought about it, Jeremiah didn’t mind his current living situation too much. No, if he had more money he’d probably put it into a real physical church. Maybe then people would be more interested in attending service.

Jeremiah knew the people of this town were a bit rough around the edges, but he did truly care for them. He wasn’t entirely sure if the people’s souls actually had any hope of being saved, but he still had to try, church or not. Because, after all, who else was going to save the poor souls of Connor Creek if not him?

While the townsfolk didn’t seem to want to be saved in the first place, he still had hope for them. Call him a fool if you’d like, but Jeremiah genuinely did believe that the souls of the good people of Connor Creek could be saved. Though he will admit that he was not the most qualified person to do it, there was literally no one else.

Plus, Jeremiah certainly preferred being a pastor over being a lawyer, even if he was acutely aware of his failing church. It was certainly more fun than staring at legal documents for hours on end, that was for sure. So who cares if no one actually wanted to attend church? One of the best things about not having a physical church was the fact that he could hold a sermon anywhere in town. Plus, physical churches were so overrated. Honestly, who needs them when one could just walk into town and start a sermon right then and there?

Jeremiah could just imagine all the people he’d reach by preaching in the center of town. And while he knew that he’d likely receive yet another noise violation ticket from Helen, he figured it was worth it for the good he’d be doing. So, it was alright that he didn’t have a church building. Because Jeremiah knew that so long as the Lord was with him, he’d be able to save these poor souls. Or he’d die trying- though he certainly would prefer to not die, if that was an option.


	23. Requiem for the Herd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vern Marrow might have been a butcher, but that didn't mean he didn't have empathy for living creatures, human or otherwise.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death (Mentioned), Werewolves (Mentioned)

For Vern Marrow, meat was his life, and not just because he was a butcher. He genuinely couldn’t think of any other sort of food like it. Sure, vegans and vegetarians would create substitutes, but- at least to him- they were never as good. Vern loved real meat. He had to as it was his whole profession, but he had a… sophisticated appreciation when it came to his craft. Nothing was simply  _ just _ a slab of meat for him. In his eyes, all meat was an animal who had given their life for an opportunity. An opportunity to become something more than just a hunk of raw meat. An opportunity to become a meal.

When Vern had first taken over the shop, it came as a bit of a surprise to see how much meat people ate, even in their small town. And it wasn’t hard for him to recognize the regulars, namely Olivia and Quinn.

Quinn being a regular made sense as he was a chef, but Olivia, well she came as quite a surprise. It wasn’t that he didn’t know she ate meat, more so he didn’t realize just how  _ much _ meat she ate. It was strange, but she only ever seemed to order large amounts of meat once a month, spending the rest ordering- what he considered- a reasonable amount. Of course, Vern wasn’t one to question the eating habits of his customers so he kept his mouth shut about it.

Plus, he wasn’t one to judge when he ate his own fair share of meat. Vern knew just about everything there was to know about preparing and seasoning meat. Just because Quinn was the professional chef of the town, didn’t mean that Vern didn’t know how to properly prepare meals. In fact, he had actually been the one to teach Quinn quite a number of meat-related recipes. And, in exchange, Quinn shared some of his own recipes for side dishes. 

The two had a mutual respect for one another and their respective crafts. A small part of Vern had always wondered if that was the case just because he was Quinn’s sole meat supplier. But he'd known Quinn long enough to know that he wasn't like that. Quinn was a genuinely kind man whose shared love of food had led them to meet in the first place. Nothing more, nothing less.

Vern had quite enjoyed the simple life he lived. At least, before those reporters came to town. It wasn’t that he wasn’t excited about the prospect of newcomers, and they certainly seemed like nice people, Paul especially. No, it wasn’t anything personal, but more so what had been happening in their quiet little town ever since they arrived. The recent murders were putting everyone on edge, him especially. It wasn’t that he was worried for his own life, rather he was worried what it meant in the grand scheme of things.

See, Vern was pretty sure that the newcomers weren’t the murderers. They had no reason to do so and, from what he had heard, they were accounted for when Ryan had died. Not to mention the fact that Paul himself had nearly died a couple nights after. That could only mean that someone in town was behind the murders, and that was what terrified him. To think that someone in their town was capable of  _ murder _ … 

Vern honestly hated the fact that he was thinking such a thing, but just because he hated the idea of it didn’t mean he was going to intentionally cloud his own vision, becoming ignorant to such a fact. Still, that didn’t mean he was going to try and suss out the killer either. No, he wasn’t an idiot. He knew what trying to investigate the murders could mean for him. Besides, he was sure that Sheriff Reynolds had it handled. She was sheriff for a reason, after all. And there were only so many humans it could have been.

Human. Vern had never really thought much about the word before. Was it strange that he found it odd that it seemed to be the default when it came to referring to a person? Perhaps. But with all the werewolf mania happening around town, it was really making him think about what being human really meant. Why was it that “humanity” was the ideal? What made humans so much better than, say, werewolves? Not that he quite believed that werewolves existed, and, if they did, that they were behind all the murders. After all, why would they be?

It just didn’t make much sense to him that werewolves would be behind the killings given how it seemed fairly clear that there was some sort of pattern with the recent deaths. And what werewolf would want  _ more _ silver in the town? And even if there were werewolves living in Connor Creek, why did it even matter? They’d never done anything to them before so Vern figured that they simply wanted to live their lives. Much like he just wanted to live his.

Honestly, all Vern wanted to do was run his butcher shop and stay alive. But it seemed like, with all the werewolf mania, keeping his shop open wasn’t the smartest course of action. He knew it would be safer for him to just close his shop and wait for everything to blow over, but it didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. Plus, now Riley was talking about a “wolf hunt?” 

Vern just didn’t understand the people of this town sometimes. How could they be so enthusiastic about killing a living,  _ thinking _ being? He supposed it was ironic for empathy to come from a butcher, but he just couldn’t see werewolves as an animal. The killings had a pattern, a motive. That meant that the werewolves would have to have conscious thought. They were sentient beings like humans. And the townsfolk just seemed alright with the idea of ending their lives. And for what? Because they were a little different from them? It was simply absurd and Vern wanted nothing to do with it. He knew he couldn’t do anything to stop the townsfolk, but that didn’t mean he had to go along with the mob either. He simply wished the townsfolk would come to their senses, before an innocent person got hurt.


	24. Requiem for the Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rita Waldeburg has seen many dead bodies in her life, but it's a little different when the bodies are her friends'.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Werewolves, Taxidermy, Implied/Referenced Body Horror

Rita had always found life to be a fascinating thing. The idea of a small creature- human or not- coming into the world and told to survive was just beautiful to her. Of course, not all who are birthed into this world will survive. But then again, what is life without death?

Rita was a mortician by trade so she knew death better than anyone. While most would come into contact with death a handful of times in their lives, Rita had personally gotten to know every single death that had happened in Connor Creek since she’d taken over the funeral parlor. At this point, she considered death an old friend, especially with all the murders that had been happening around town recently.

She hadn’t actually had to deal with that many deaths before the Schue-Horyns arrived in town. It was something she both was and wasn’t grateful for. While the idea of death was immensely intriguing to her on a scientific level- especially given the nature of the deaths- she wasn’t exactly enthusiastic about her friends dying. Okay, well, not everyone who died was her friend per se, but it was the thought that counted.

Take Ryan Reynolds for example. She didn’t hate the guy, but she wasn’t exactly close with him either. Rita certainly knew him from being Madison’s friend, but she had just never really gotten along well enough with him to actually be friends. She certainly appreciated his anti-mining stance as he ran for town council, that was for sure. Though she had to admit that he  _ was _ a bit extreme, even for her.

While Rita hated Miner Mole as much as the next werewolf, she wasn’t exactly clamoring to take down the entire corporation. And that wasn’t just because she was worried for her life if she tried, though that was admittedly a part of the reason. No, despite having grown up in a secluded town like Connor Creek, she knew that Miner Mole had friends in higher places and trying to completely drive them out of town just wasn’t a feasible goal.

As opposed to Ryan, Rita had been much closer with Prism. While she didn’t exactly appreciate the woman’s very obvious scam, she  _ could _ appreciate the collection of strange objects she had gathered over the years to use as props. Let it be very clear, Rita didn’t believe that Prism was actually psychic or anything like that. Hell, she barely believed in that kind of thing in the first place. Yes, werewolves existed, but that didn’t mean that every type of supernatural or magical myth was also true. Then again, she supposed she didn’t exactly have proof of the contrary either.

Rita was really going to miss their girls’ night. It had mostly involved getting drunk and trying- and failing- to contact the dead with one of Prism’s many ouija boards. Honestly, if ghosts did exist, she’d be surprised if she wasn’t haunted from how much they used that stupid thing. She supposed that it was fitting that she ended up inheriting the majority of Prism’s mystic shop. Honestly, it came as a surprise that she had included Rita in her will at all. Sure they were close, but Rita didn’t think they were  _ that _ close. Then again, it wasn’t like Prism had that many other friends.

Rita wasn’t one to cry when people died. She knew it was a part of life and had accepted this fact long ago. Odie Doty, however, was different. She wasn’t sure what about seeing him dead had caused such a reaction from her. He was a good man, not to mention a close friend. And Rita wasn’t afraid to admit that she was going to miss him- and not just because he delivered her mail. She supposed her strong reaction to his passing may have had something to do with the fact that he was a fellow wolf. She had practically grown up with him and the others, after all, so losing him was akin to losing a brother. 

She supposed that was why she had decided to spend so much time taxidermying him. Not that she didn’t spend a decent amount of time taxidermying Prism or Ryan, but Odie was a special case. It wasn’t every day that a werewolf died, after all. And if she were being honest, she was excited that she got the chance to examine the inner workings of a werewolf. And, once she finished, she figured that she’d immortalize him as she had done with the other, but in such a way that would portray him as his true self- subtly, of course.

Rita was very proud of the final product, but it didn’t seem like the other townsfolk shared her views. It was a shame, really. She was fairly proud of the work she had done on Prism’s body as well, and now no one was going to see it. Honestly, she should have expected as much. The townsfolk just didn’t seem to understand the beauty of a person’s body and all the work she did to preserve them.

Now, Rita was more than familiar with dead bodies, but that didn’t mean she was familiar with  _ dying _ bodies. She was always the one to arrive after someone had died. Dealing with a person actively dying was Dr. Henry’s department. So it was quite shocking for her to experience Barney’s death first hand. Perhaps it was because he was still clinging to life and begging for someone to save his damned egg that it didn’t hit her at first, but as soon as his body hit the floor she knew he was gone. It was a strange feeling and she wasn’t quite sure if she liked it or not.

She had never really been friends with Barney, mostly because she didn’t want to be dragged into seeing his ‘dinosaur egg’ but she still felt a great loss looking at him dead on the ground. It made her wonder what would happen when she died. Would anyone miss her? She supposed the other werewolves would take her death fairly hard, if Odie’s death was any indication of that. Rita figured that thinking of such things wasn’t very productive, especially when there was a murderer on the loose. Plus, she figured she still had some more time left on Earth and she planned on using it to live her best life, no matter how short. Because, after all, death comes for us all.


	25. Requiem for the Hunters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivia and Riley didn't always agree, but at the end of the day they were friends and they cared about one another and that's all that mattered, right?
> 
> Relevant Tags: Werewolves (Mentioned), Politics (Mentioned)

Olivia and Riley had always been close, best friends, even. Neither of them were quite sure when their friendship had started exactly, but it was definitely when they were younger. They were pretty sure that it was because everyone kept confusing one for the other, especially when they were still children. Riley had found it quite annoying while Olivia found it hilarious. It was her idea to start pranking some of the others by swapping places each April Fools’ Day. Riley wasn’t sure why she had agreed to it at first, but she certainly didn’t regret it, reveling in the confusion of their friends. 

The prank only worked the first few years before people came to expect it. And, in an unintentional result, the other townsfolk started catching on to their little differences. Little differences such as how Olivia had her hair parted on her left while Riley had it parted in the middle, and how Riley had an accent that had only gotten more distinct over the years. It was a strange problem for the two to have, but then again they had been thinking of stopping the prank for a bit by that point so it wasn’t too big a deal. And, as they grew older, and their distinctions became more prominent and the confusion between them happened less and less, though there were still rare instances where it did happen.

It was kind of funny, Olivia had actually been worried that they wouldn’t be friends without their pranks, but they had actually grown closer after they stopped. It even got to the point where the two began to talk about opening a shop together, given how they had a similar view on guns. But, for one reason or another, Olivia ended up changing her mind in that regard, proposing that they opened separate shops instead. Riley didn’t exactly understand the logistics of it, but she relented- though only after months of arguing. For being such close friends, Olivia and Riley fought quite a bit. Nothing too serious in nature, though- at least, not usually. Of course, it was normal for friends to have disagreements, but maybe not to the extent that they did.

One of the biggest disagreements the two had was about the silver mines. It was usually a coin toss on who would be the first to start the argument, but more often than not it ended up landing on Olivia. It wasn’t like she was looking to start a fight, quite the contrary really. See, usually the disagreement would start when Riley would bring up some new stance that Truman would have. Olivia would scoff and Riley, never one to back down from any sort of challenge, would call her out on it. From there it would devolve into a heated argument on the silver mines, no matter what the initial topic was.

And then that disagreement usually led to them fighting about why their shops were separated in the first place. Riley was always the one to bring that one up, not that Olivia blamed her. It was certainly impractical for there to be separate shops for guns and ammo, especially when they were located right next to each other. They weren’t even in different buildings either; all that separated the two shops’ was a single wooden wall.

It may seem like these arguments happened often, but surprisingly they seemed to only pop up about once a month. Neither woman really liked to argue with the other so they would tend to just bottle their grievances until it eventually spilled over into one of their fights. Said fights tended to leave a sour taste in their mouths by the end of it and, given a few days, the two would return to normal, as if it hadn’t happened in the first place.

Of course, that wasn’t to say they didn’t apologize to one another after a fight happened. It was rare that they would verbally apologize, but that was because they had their own unique ways of apologizing. It was a bit of an unspoken rule between the two of them that whoever initiated the argument would be the one to apologize. Said apology was usually some sort of gift from one woman to the other. If Olivia was the one to initiate, she would gift Riley some homemade craft- usually a small sculpture. Riley, on the other hand, would find some trinket in the general store that she knew Olivia would appreciate, wrap it up nice and give it to her. It was through this process that the two got their custom BFFL dog tags to show that despite all the disagreements, Olivia and Riley were still friends. But didn’t mean they knew every single thing about each other.

Olivia had a large secret she had been keeping from Riley for years. Honestly, she’s surprised her BFF hadn’t figured it out yet, especially with all the mania in the town from the recent murders. However, unbeknownst to Olivia, while Riley hadn’t figured out her secret exactly, she certainly noticed her acting a little… off. Riley had just assumed it was due to the fear that was permeating through the air, but actually thinking about it, Olivia had never been one to be afraid of the unknown. Riley had long since lost count of the number of times she had to hunt down her friend after she ran into the woods after some random animal. So her being fearful of werewolves of all things seemed- as strange as it sounded- unlikely.

It certainly didn’t help that whenever she would bring up a wolf hunt, Olivia would go quiet or do that little nervous laugh she did when she was clearly uncomfortable but didn’t want to say that she was. So Riley would drop the topic, but even then Olivia would seem off. Which wasn’t how it usually went. Usually she would perk back up quite quickly after an uncomfortable topic was changed, but even after multiple topic changes, Olivia seemed forlorn. In all honesty, it was starting to get on Riley’s nerves. She knew the woman loved animals, but she was really taking it too far with the werewolves, especially ones that were literally murdering their friends. 

Still, she held her tongue. Even if Olivia might not like the idea, Riley knew she was doing the right thing. And as much as she loved her BFFL, she had bigger fish to fry- or perhaps bigger wolves to shoot- than worrying about her personal feelings about the lives of a pack of murdering werewolves. So as long as they were alive, they were a threat not just to her and the townsfolk, but to Olivia as well. Because she would rather die than risk them hurting her best friend.


	26. Requiem for an Executive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas Torsen hated Connor Creek, and he was going to do everything and anything to make sure he got out of there.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death (Mentioned), Werewolves (Mentioned), Politics

Silas Torsen hated Connor Creek. He wasn’t sure he could have hated anything more than the fact he was being forced to live in some two-bit town that didn’t even show up on Google Maps. Honestly, what was even the point of going somewhere if a GPS couldn’t direct you towards it? And no, he was not talking about _that_ GPS and his fellow boy scout thinking they were helping by giving directions. How could someone even get lost in this tiny-ass town anyways? There were only, like, four roads!

He honestly couldn’t believe he was demoted to regional manager of this nowhere town. He didn’t deserve such treatment! Sure, he may have made a _few_ expensive personal purchases, but honestly who didn’t? Should he really be punished for doing what everyone else at Miner Mole did? Okay, so he _may_ have been sloppier than most with his spending, what with the leaked documents. But could you really blame him? Like, come on, who _wasn’t_ going to spend at least 150k to pay Lil Nas X to perform for a party? Like, it would be criminal to pay him any less.

Of course, Miner Mole didn’t see it as such. They told him he should be glad they only demoted him, but to Silas, he might have been better off being fired than stuck in that god awful town. How was he supposed to function without Amazon Prime, and Apple Pay, and Siri, fucking _Siri_ ?! He didn’t even know Siri could be unavailable in certain regions! Like, what kind of bullshit was that? And, not only was he stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, but Miner Mole had the gall to assign him to one of his own project’s towns. _His own fucking project_.

Silas had been tempted to give them the middle finger and walk away, but he knew this kind of fuck up would be hard to bounce back from. So, as much as he hated it, he held his tongue and agreed to the consequences, not that he had much of a choice in the matter. He’d play along in their little game, slowly making his way back up the ranks. Then, when he had the chance, he’d take his revenge on those old farts that demoted him in the first place. But, for now, he’d have to lay low and get the mining underway.

It should have been simple. Go into town, draft a request to begin drilling, strip all the silver from the mines for profit, and then get out of Dodge. It should have taken a year or two _max_. But when it came to vote on whether Connor Creek should ease the mining restrictions, it ended in a draw. Multiple. Times. Great, wonderful, it was just Silas’s fucking luck. Not only was he forced to live in a town that had the internet connection of a potato, but now he was stuck there until the town council came to their senses and agreed to let him do his fucking job.

He had kept his cool about it- barely- the first couple times, but it’d been about a year since he first got to Connor Creek and he wasn’t anywhere closer to getting out. At least before Truman approached him with a proposition. The deal had been simple enough. He would fund her political campaign and in return she would grant him the permits that allowed Miner Mole to start drilling. In hindsight, Silas should have been more suspicious of how simple the agreement had been, but he was blinded by his desperation. Oh well, at least helping Truman win the town council seat couldn’t be that hard, could it? Yeah, that’s what he thought before the murders had started. 

Contrary to what most might think, Silas wasn’t stupid. He knew that who or whatever had killed Ryan wasn’t just some animal, no matter what the _doctor_ said. And that was ignoring the fact that Silas was pretty sure that man didn’t even have a medical license. His suspicions about the unusual cause of death were later confirmed when he had questioned Truman about it. He certainly wasn’t expecting to be told a werewolf was behind it, in fact he had quite literally laughed in her face when she told him. And then he laughed even harder when she said she had control over said werewolf.

Honestly, it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. But then… then she said she could _prove it_. That she could get the wolf to kill again the next night. Silas had scoffed at the claim. He wasn’t a fucking idiot, okay? Werewolves didn’t exist, and if they did they certainly wouldn’t listen to some two-bit politician who couldn’t hold a position for more than a few years. Yeah, that’s right, he did his research. But he decided to humor her. He picked a random person in town- well, mostly random, didn’t need to give the opposition any chance of winning after all.

Prism had seemed a simple enough target. He was pretty sure the woman was getting high off her own supply of herbs and whatever else she had in the shop of hers so she probably wasn’t going to notice a ‘werewolf’ come and kill her. Not that he expected her to actually die, of course. But perhaps he should have taken Truman more seriously, because the next day, not only had Prism been ripped to shreds, but that Paul fellow had also gotten caught in the crossfire.

Alright, so werewolves existed. That was… the craziest thing Silas had ever learned. But he didn’t care to think about the logistics of it all, so long as Truman kept the thing on a leash, no need to put his own life at risk, of course. And while he wasn’t usually one to actively murder, he figured using Truman to do it for him kept his hands clean enough. Plus, he had the recordings of their meetings as collateral if things did get messy.

And things _did_ get messy. It was only supposed to be one more death. One more anti-miner to secure the votes. But then word had somehow gotten out that there were werewolves in the town and everyone was wrapped up in the mania of it all. It was making it very hard for him to do his job. And that wasn’t even to mention the literal wolf hunt that Truman had orchestrated. 

Things were going to shit and fast. And Silas knew how to pick and choose his battles, and this was not one he was going to try and fight, especially after that blatant threat from Truman. No, he knew that he had to get out now or he’d end up dying in the town, either from the crazy townsfolk or from the werewolf itself. And he would like to continue to live, thank you very much. Thankfully, he had the foresight to call for a ride ahead of time and all that was left was to pack up a few more documents and he’d finally be rid of this two-bit town. He was certainly _not_ going to miss it.


	27. Requiem for a Joke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had started as a funny joke, but then the townsfolk took it too far. Then again, there were worse jokes to take seriously than having a dog as a mayor.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Y'all thought I wasn't gonna write a chapter on the best mayor? Lmao~~
> 
> Catch me having to actually learn about small town politics to write this chapter.

Being the mayor of a small town like Connor Creek may sound simple, but it was really quite a demanding job. While a mayor of a large town or city had more people they had to be concerned about, there was a level of disconnect where the mayor would never truly get to know the people they were leading. That wasn’t the case in a small town, especially one as tiny as Connor Creek.

In Connor Creek, everyone knew everyone. This included the mayor. Not only did the mayor have a name to every face, but she was practically friends with them all as well. This meant that any decision that she would make would always be, on some level, personal, even if that wasn’t the intent. Then again, being a dog meant that she herself didn’t fully understand the ramifications behind her actions.

The people of Connor Creek had elected Diane as a joke, finding the idea of having a dog for a mayor hilarious. They had joked about the possibility of an animal as their mayor, believing it to be a cute idea. That joke soon snowballed into something that no one in town was truly expecting. Someone had offhandedly mentioned the idea of Diane- the town’s sole dog- running for mayor. The knowledge of the exact person who started the idea had long since been lost to the sands of time, but whoever started it couldn’t have possibly known what their simple joke would mean for the future of their town.

The idea of a small dog wearing a suit and signing legal documents was so cute that the townsfolk began to actually draft campaign posters for Diane, as a joke of course. They then handed them out to the fine people of Connor Creek with a smile and a laugh. The people behind it all hadn’t  _ actually _ been expecting the townsfolk to vote for her, but perhaps they should have known better. Literal dozens of ballots were sent in with Diane’s name written on them, and, at the end of the election, it was quite clear who the winner- and therefore their new mayor- was. 

They had done it. They had successfully elected a dog as their mayor. It was great, the people laughed about it for a bit before reality really began to sink in. They had elected a  _ dog _ as their mayor. A  _ dog _ would be representing the people of Connor Creek. A  _ dog _ would be signing important documents that would alter the course of their town and the people who lived in it. It was at that moment that the townsfolk realized that they may have taken their little joke too far.

There was a town council meeting right after Diane had gotten sworn into office to discuss the situation the town had unwittingly put themselves in. Needless to say, there was more shouting than discussing during the meeting. At least until Sybilus managed to say his piece, with the help of Rita, of course. He had pointed out that, as far as official mayoral duties went, all that Diane really needed to do was veto or sign legislations, sign permits and licenses, and address the city once a year. Everything else didn’t necessarily require the mayor to actively participate. Therefore, the town council could simply do the mayor’s work for her, as she was mentally unable to, given how she was a literal animal.

“You really trust some stupid dog to sign important documents?” Cliff had asked, inciting a bout of agreement from the nearly all the other council members.

“Well, hold on just a moment,” Aubrey had then said. “Dogs are actually quite intelligent. And there is no doubt in my mind that she- given enough time and proper training- could uphold her mayoral duties. In fact, I saw this fascinating video on the internet about how-”

“UGHHHHH!” Riley’s obnoxiously loud groan drowned out Aubrey’s ramblings about some unrelated dog video, having likely heard about it from him already.

Sybilus then took that moment of relative silence after the interruption to speak up once more, “It’s quite simple, really. Our mutt- dog-  _ mayor _ will simply need to print her signature to pass any relevant documents. Should she manage to decline- ignore- veto our resolutions, we, as town council, have the- the power to override her veto. So long as we all agree to uphold the results of our motions.”

“And how, do you suppose, a dog will sign documents?” Riley asked.

“Oh! We could hire Sarah to be Diane’s official handler,” Agnes proposed. “I looked over her credentials earlier and she is more than qualified to oversee the mayor.”

“It’s  _ her _ dog, Ags,” Cliff said.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Rita said after thinking it over for a moment. “Sybilus, a vote?”

“All in favor of appointing Ms. Sarah Hart as the mayor’s official handler?”

All hands went up.

“The motion passes.”

The meeting, from there, mostly consisted of the council actually discussing the details of Sarah’s role as the mayor handler. It was a little unreal to the townsfolk that their joke actually had consequences, but it all worked out in the end. The council had managed to avoid the total disaster that would have ensued had they allowed the new mayor to simply do whatever she wanted. It was a good thing that the mayor had always been more of a figurehead anyways.

As for Mayor Diane, well, she got to live her life in mayoral extravagance. Which was more or less the same as her previous living situation. Of course, there were a lot more cameras in her face now, and certainly more eyes on her than ever before, but she wasn’t too perturbed by it all. Especially when it usually meant more pets and treats than ever before. Of course, being a dog mayor wasn’t all fun and games. She still had her duties to uphold, after all. Sitting at a desk, dipping her paw in pet-friendly ink and signing documents really could be a drag. But it was worth it for all the treats that she got in return. Yes, Diane could see herself really enjoying her new life as Connor Creek’s mayor.


	28. Requiem for Complacency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Truman has big ambitions and she won't settle, even when they come to fruition
> 
> Relevant Tags: Werewolves, Minor Character Death, Politics

Truman had never been one to admit defeat. Even in times when she was forced to draw back, she would consider it a “strategic retreat” rather than a surrender, because a surrender was a sign of weakness, of submission, of cowardice. And Truman was anything but a coward.

Growing up in a family as… unconventional as hers was difficult. But it made her stronger. At least, that’s what she had long since convinced herself. Her mother had always been hard on her, but she knew it was because she was her only child and she had big plans for their bloodline. Truman did believe that she truly wanted what was best for her. Her mother had done everything she could so she could live a good life, even if they had been forced to move from town to town, city to city, state to state every couple years or so for as long as she could remember.

“Never settle,” her mother had once said while they were packing their very few belongings for yet another move. “Settling is complacency. And complacency is a sign of weakness. If you become complacent, then you allow your enemies to pull ahead of you, and being below anyone is how we die. Those who are not on top will always be taken advantage of. So never settle. Always aim to come out above the rest, no matter the cost.  _ Never settle _ .”

Truman hadn’t been sure whether her mother had been speaking to her or not at the time. She hadn’t said anything more after that, and Truman knew better than to question her. She supposed that it didn’t matter either way. Whether she had intended it or not, her words spoke to her, resonated with her very soul. Truman knew better than anyone that the world was a cruel place. And she knew the only thing people responded to was power. The strong always prevailed, and one couldn’t become strong by simply settling for  _ good enough _ .

Her family had always been prideful of their lineage and blood. They knew for a fact they were better than the pathetic humans that surrounded them. That had been instilled in Truman since she was a young child. Her mother had always been a large influence in her life, having taught her everything she knew. She had always had a knack for pinpointing the flaws in a person’s very being. With just a simple glance, she knew how to exactly push a person’s buttons to get them to do whatever she wanted. It was a skill she had trained Truman in as well. She wasn’t a natural like her mother, but she worked hard and always strived to surpass her. Though, even after years of teachings, she still found herself lacking. It was something her mother had never let her forget. And even to this day she was not free from the fact that she had never truly surpassed her.

Truman was always expected to do better, to  _ be _ better because she was the lifeblood of her family, the last in her bloodline. Though it had been years since she felt the actual burden of that fact upon her shoulders, that didn’t mean it wasn’t ever present. Perhaps that was why she had gone into politics. After all, what better way to gain power than by running the very government that made the rules in the first place?

There came a large obstacle in being a politician, especially for Truman. Even as an adult, she wasn’t able to stay in a single home for more than a year or two before having to leave, else she’d compromise her own safety. This made running for any type of long-form leadership position quite hard. Still, she managed to the best of her ability, spending the next decade or so jumping from town to city to state, slowly gaining political experience until, eventually, she made it to Connor Creek.

She had known of the existence of the small mining town for what was basically her whole life. Her mother had told her many stories about the feud between the Connors and the McMahons over the silver of the mines and the land surrounding it. Despite the McMahon’s superiority over the Connors, they knew that if they were to fight it would end in bloodshed on both sides. So, reluctantly, the McMahons had left and the Connors settled by the silver mines. The cowardice of the original McMahons infuriated Truman to no end. She knew in her heart that they would have come out on top had a fight actually ensued. Knew that if they had taken the risk, she wouldn’t have had to spend her life running for her life, never knowing what peace and safety was. 

The Connors had had peace for far too long, and it was about time for them to learn what it felt to be unsafe in their own home. Of course, she couldn’t simply go in and challenge the Connors directly. Doing so would surely get her killed. No, she had to be strategic about it; play the long game. While the silver in the mines were a strong asset for the Connor wolves, Truman knew that it could just as easily become their downfall. With just a little nudge in the direction towards pro-mining, she could have the Connors running for the woods with their tail between their legs in a matter of years.

Truman had worked her whole life to uphold her family’s values, aspiring to make her bloodline proud. It had been her mother’s dream to get revenge on Connor Creek for having forced them out generations ago. And Truman had every intention of seeing it through to the end, not just for her mother, but for her as well. And there wasn’t any way she was going to let some bright-eyed, nosey reporters get in the way of her plans. No, she would see Connor Creek’s downfall to the end. She would come out victorious and she would be the one to fulfill her mother’s final wish.

When her mother died, Truman hadn’t known what to think for a long while. She was her mother, but often she felt as if she saw her less as a daughter and more of a tool, a means to some sort of end. But she knew there would never be and end, not truly. If- no,  _ when _ she managed to destroy the Connor wolves, she would still have a lot of work ahead of her. And while her mother may have groomed her child for vengeance, she had made Truman into who she was. She was the one who made her a McMahon. And McMahons never settled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's wild knowing that Wayward Guide is ending tomorrow, and with it this fic (yeah, that's right, y'all are getting a double chapter tomorrow). And, before everything is over, I would just like to thank everyone for reading this, Just_AnotherFangirl and DancingLifeboat especially for all your comments! It's been so much fun working on this big project and it was great seeing everyone's reactions to each chapter. 
> 
> As great as this whole experience has been, though, I am looking forward to seeing this story finally come to an end (not that I want it to end necessarily, but it'll be nice to actually finish a long-form project). So, again, thank you for reading thus far, and I'll catch y'all tomorrow for the final updates! <3


	29. Requiem for the Vagabonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Connors and McMahons had spent their whole lives running and searching for a cure. They had never know safety, not until they stumbled upon an unassuming creek.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Werewolves

No one was quite sure how the Connors and McMahons first became cursed, but they knew that it had afflicted the two families for countless years. With the rising of the full moon, the beast within them would awake and wreak havoc upon anything that stood in its path. It was a tiring existence and often filled the two families with despair. 

The Connors and McMahons had been travelling as a single pack for so long, they often forgot they were of different kin. They started as two separate packs, each on their own journey for the search of a cure. They had crossed paths a multitude of times, neither knowing at first that they shared much more in common than they initially thought. It had been because of a slip-up on the Connors’ part that the McMahons found out that they too shared the same curse.

The McMahons had been wary of the Connors, unsure if they were to be trusted, even if they were suffering the same fate as they. But, eventually, the Connors were able to convince the McMahons that they weren’t looking to fight, and simply wanted to work together. They claimed that by sticking together as one pack they would have better luck finding a remedy for their affliction, as opposed to two smaller packs. The McMahons weren’t entirely convinced that they wouldn’t be betrayed by the Connors, but had reluctantly agreed to travel together. They knew that with the two packs combined, they would have less to fear from the humans who would seek to kill them for something they had no control over.

So, together they travelled. Every town they arrived in was the same story. They would arrive the night after a full moon, look around for local priests and doctors and ask for cures to their curse. If they weren’t chased out that day they would stay, trying various remedies- none of which would work- before leaving the day before the full moon would arise. It was a seemingly endless search, and one they had been on for so long. But, alas, nothing that was presented to then had worked. At least, not without dire consequences to those who attempted the various methods. And, as the years passed, their hopes of a cure grew slimmer and slimmer.

Until, they came across a lone creek in the woods. They couldn’t have known it at the time, but that single creek was the answer to all their woes. The Connors and McMahons had settled down in the far mountains of California, knowing that their curse would take effect that very night. They had set up a makeshift camp earlier that day and had been drinking water from the nearby creek. That night, when the full moon arose, the two families felt a shift in their very being. While they had still transformed into large wolf-beasts, they found no trace of bloodlust in their minds. The endless fog within them had cleared and they could see clearly. They had  _ control _ .

So used to the loss of control, the Connors and McMahons didn’t know what to do with themselves in their transformed states. It had frightened many that night, not used to the sight of their transformed selves. And, that morning, they were back to their human forms, as if nothing had happened.

The two families had gathered to discuss what had happened, there was a fear, yes, but also… hope. They had to find the source to whatever allowed them to control their curse. So, they had begun to search, and search, and search. It was many nights before they finally pinpointed it to the lone creek they had settled their camp by. Thanks to their heightened senses, one of the McMahons had pointed out there had been a metallic tang to the waters of the creek.

They had turned to the creek and began the slow trek up to where it began. It was a long journey on foot, but eventually they made it to the foot of the mountain, where a fork in the creek led into a small cave. They were so close to finding the secret, they could feel it. And so, they trekked onwards, into the dark maws of the unknown. As they walked they Connors and McMahons began to feel themselves weakening. But they had shrugged it off as simply exhaustion from their long journey and pushed onward. It wasn’t until one of the Connors nearly fell over that they found out exactly why they were feeling so drained.

The cave was laced with silver deposits, to the point where it was permeating in the very air they were breathing as they spelunked. And, they were quite sure it was within the very waters itself. The two families had fled from the cave after learning that they were slowly poisoning themselves in their search. Upon, exiting, there had been an explosion of shouting and panic. The two families had been unknowingly poisoning themselves, and they were fearing for their very lives. But the leaders of the two families saw it as it truly was. The silver was poisoning them, yes, but it wasn’t  _ killing _ them. The silver-laced waters was a discovery that changed everything for the two families. It was freedom from their curse. It was the beginning of something new; the beginning of their lives.

Of course, the two families were still wary of the water’s effects so they had held off building an actual settlement until they were absolutely sure that night wasn’t simply a fluke. But the following full moon was the same as the first. They transformed, but held control of their consciousnesses. That night had been a celebration in its truest form. And, in the morning, the Connors and McMahons started work building a true settlement.

Their little settlement didn’t have a name, but it was where they could truly be themselves without fear of being run out of town, or killed for things they had no control of. They could finally stop running and simply surviving, and actually  _ live _ . It was truly a freeing feeling. And while they may not have found a proper cure, they had found a place they could call home. And that was good enough.


	30. Requiem for a Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artemis and Paul came into Connor Creek expecting a simple story of political corruption. They couldn't have possibly anticipated what they would find in that little mining town, or how they would come out changed in the end.
> 
> Relevant Tags: Canonical Character Death, Werewolves, Politics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, y'all, the final chapter. Wayward Guide (and this fic) may be over but my love for the show and fandom won't be dying any time soon. So, I just wanted to, again, say thank you all so much for reading this fic and joining me on this project.

When the Schue-Horyns first set foot in the tiny mining town of Connor Creek, they were expecting to investigate a tame story. Well, relatively tame in any case. Dealing with corruption in any form could get pretty dicey, but it was especially so when it involved a big-name company like Miner Mole. 

While Ryan had told them that there was a possibility of Miner Mole killing him, neither Artemis nor Paul actually believed him. But then, the night they arrived in town, they found his dead body on the street outside the Dead Canary where Madison had been kneeled beside him. They had felt a pang of sadness for the sheriff, but pushed it aside to begin recording. They were in the town for less than an hour and things were already starting to kick off with a bang.

The murder plot was certainly a big step in another direction compared to simple political corruption. Everything had happened so fast and while the Schue-Horyns hadn’t been anticipating investigating such a dangerous topic, wasn’t that what made it exciting in the first place? There was certainly some apprehension in the beginning, especially as the bodies began to pile up, but it was that danger of the unknown that had enraptured Artemis and her brother. It was what compelled them to move forward. To seek the truth behind the killings. Because who- or what- could be capable of such a cold-blooded act and why?

That was always the question, wasn’t it? Why? Why had Ryan come to them specifically? Why were those pages in Aubrey’s book ripped out? Why did Ryan have to die? Why, why, why? So many questions and yet so little answers. But Artemis supposed that was why they were there in the first place; to uncover the truth.

Coming into a town as small and secluded as Connor Creek, the Schue-Horyns had been expecting some eccentricity in not only the townsfolk, but from the town itself. But even then, the blatant leniency of normal laws was staggering to the twins- Paul especially with all the tickets he had managed to rack up in the week they had spent in that town. The townsfolk were certainly much stranger than what they were used to working with, that was for sure, but there was a certain charm to it. For the most part, in any case.

The Schue-Horyns knew that Miner Mole would play a large part in the story; it was one of the main reasons they had come to the mining town in the first place, after all. But they hadn’t been aware just how large a part it would be. While they didn’t actually see Miner Mole itself much in their time at Connor Creek, its influence was rooted deep within the townsfolk, even if they didn’t appear to realize it themselves. The company’s very existence had caused a ripple effect within the town that only spread further with Truman’s influence.

Truman had honestly been quite an interesting resident of Connor Creek and hearing her speech, it was no wonder why she was taking a shot for the open council seat. The woman appeared to have an insatiable ambition within her and, like her slogan, she would never settle. Still, that didn’t mean that Artemis didn’t see how unfair it was that she was being sworn onto the council seat without any sort of opposition, especially since it was quite clear to her that Truman didn’t truly care about the death of Madison’s brother. Having interviewed a wide variety of people on Good Ol’ American Living, Artemis had a knack for sussing out the people who simply weren’t sincere. Which wasn’t to say that Truman didn’t care about the town. Quite the contrary, actually. She cared about the town quite a bit, just not in the way most politicians would.

The existence of werewolves within the town had been a shock to say the least. Of course, Paul had believed in their existence for as long as Artemis could remember, and had been thoroughly convinced that they resided in the very town they were investigating the second he laid his eyes upon that old book, but Artemis had taken longer to come around to it. Despite having left Connor Creek weeks ago, she still found herself looking back on the night she had been chased through the woods by a real pack of werewolves. She still couldn’t quite believe it had really happened.

Initially, Artemis had assumed the wolves in Connor Creek had been their enemies, been the people who had killed Ryan, Prism, Odie Doty, and Barney, and nearly killed her own brother. But it simply wasn’t the case. The trio of wolves who had come up to the twins and explained as such had only hammered in the final nail in the coffin of Artemis’s initial hunch. Miner Mole had to have been behind the killings. There simply wasn’t any other explanation that she could find.

Artemis had been, reasonably, suspicious of Miner Mole the second she and Paul set foot in the town, and even more so when Ryan, an avid anti-miner and Truman’s sole opposition, died a mere few days before the election. However, she had been so wrapped up by what the Connor wolves had told them that she hadn’t stopped to consider any other possible outcome to the story. She was reckless, to say the least. Honestly, what was she thinking, charging headfirst into the heart of Miner Mole to confront the person she most suspected to have been behind the multiple murders in town without any sort of backup? Then, Truman arrived and everything changed.

Truman’s reveal as a McMahon had been a shocking revelation to Artemis. Not because she had just murdered Silas right in front of her, and now stood before her, holding the still beating heart of the very man she had initially suspected of murdering all those good people; though that was certainly a part of it. No, it was because she hadn’t even considered the possibility of Truman having any part in the murders, despite knowing she was accepting money from Miner Mole. How had she not seen it before? And there Artemis was, before a murderous werewolf who she knew would have no qualms with killing her to keep her from revealing all that she saw.

Artemis had been prepared to fight for her life, even knowing it would be a losing battle. But it turned out she didn’t need to. While they had made quite a number of enemies in their short time in Connor Creek, unbeknownst to them, the Schue-Horyns had made a powerful ally as well.

Artemis had thought that Desmond had hated them, but she knew now that he had attempted to push them away for their own safety. He had saved her life and she knew it was time for them to do the same for him. But the only way that would be possible was by killing Truman and ending her reign of terror. Madison had the silver bullet, and they had a plan that had to work or else… well, let’s not think about that.

The plan hadn’t gone exactly as anticipated, however. And it resulted in a tense battle between Desmond and Truman, but with a single shot, it was over. Truman was dead and the Connor wolves could continue to live their lives in peace among the humans. And, with Madison now knowing the secret of Connor Creek, there was no doubt in the Schue-Horyns’ mind that the small town would be safer than ever before; for both humans and wolves.

Artemis and Paul’s time in Connor Creek had changed them; it had opened their eyes to the world around them, as if looking at everything from a new perspective. They hadn’t known it going in, but their eyes had been shrouded by a thick shadow of ignorance. But Connor Creek had given them a light and they were going to shine it onto the unknown to catch a glimpse at what was hidden. But they knew the dangers of leaving things uncovered so Paul and Artemis had made a promise to themselves that, much like a library, they would return their knowledge to the shadows when they finished looking.

And that’s exactly what they did when they wrote the script for the podcast. While the story they had presented to Lesly wasn’t the truth, and it didn’t tie everything together in a neat little bow, they knew it was the right thing to do. Because, in the end, the friends they had made in Connor Creek would be safe, and you know what? That was good enough.


End file.
